


An Assigned Story

by starrylitme



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shinigami, Blood and Injury, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, References to Full Moon O Sagashite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grim reaper shouldn't be soft nor care too much for the dying humans they're assigned to, but this liability is one Hinata Hajime has difficulty getting over even to the dismay of his partner, the much more ideal grim reaper Kamukura Izuru. He still pulls through for the most part.</p><p>Then he's assigned one human, young and hospitalized, that's capable of seeing grim reapers. Komaeda Nagito is carefree and careless enough to converse with him, smiling so easily with bright eyes locked onto him as though he was an appreciated guest, and that might just be how he actually perceives the situation rather than being unsettled like Hinata is. Somehow, that doesn't make things easier. It makes getting attached easier, but if anything, that's just the exact opposite.</p><p>(A more bitter than sweet tale of relationships, regrets, and tragedy. Includes side-story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Main Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story ended up way, way, way longer and darker than I ever intended so if you're going to read it, please keep that in mind.
> 
> I'm using the term "grim reaper" in the actual story instead of "shinigami" because it flowed better that way but make no mistake, that's exactly what Hinata and Kamukura are. They're also the Full Moon O Sagashite variant only without the cute animal gear (the real tragedy of this story) since they're not in the pediatrics ward. Basically: humans who commit suicide become shinigami, and while that's made explicit in the side-story, it's heavily referenced but not outright stated in the main story. Since the side-story's meant to be read after the main story (as it's preeeetty spoilery), I'm making that distinction here juuuuust in case.
> 
> Also, I thought about naming this fic "A Shinigami Story", but that would have resulted in the acronym ASS and while this story was ASS to write, I'm not going to go there. But I had thought about it.

It must have been unusual to see him as focused as he were, staring hard for the sake of figuring this out to the point of obsession—and he certainly was alert to any sudden movements, sudden shifts in his direction—but Izuru didn’t say anything when he landed on the branch beside him. He could vaguely tell that Izuru must have seen just how far away he was from solving the puzzling event in front of him. Or perhaps he imagined it.

The frail human certainly looked unassuming enough, pale-skinned and white-haired with lanky limbs, bedridden on the other side of the hospital’s window across from him. Perhaps he imagined it.

Except, again, that human glanced in his direction, unmistakably, and then his eyes darted to Izuru, and Hinata knew his eyes must have widened in surprise. Then that gaze quickly averted from them both, agitated hands fisting in the thin sheets, and head lowering so that those ivory curls of his bangs obscured his features, save for that small frown. No, he hadn’t imagined it after all.

“You saw that too, right? He can  _see_ us, Izuru,” he muttered, his own fingers tightening under his chin, uncomfortable, unsettled, and unintentionally accusing when he added, “I didn’t know there were humans that  _could_  see us.”

Izuru didn’t react to that either—though he must have seen his nervous expression. His explanation was a painfully simple one, “There are those especially dire cases where the human’s so close to death... But perhaps this one is just an anomaly.” As though that made the situation any less disturbing, and then he asked, “Is this your new assignment, Hajime?”

“Y-Yeah...” He stammered, swallowing, running tense fingers through his spikey brown hair and playing with his tie to help settle him. Even now, the suit felt uncomfortable when he was so uncertain, stammering out the name, “Komaeda... Nagito... That’s— _This_  is him. I... Shit... He can see us...”

The more he thought about this and its implications, the more it agitated him, the more he wondered, “What the hell should I do then, Izuru? Just _stalk_  this guy and make him uncomfortable for the rest of his life? Should I talk to him?”

“Does that really matter?” Izuru questioned simply, quirking a brown neutrally before sighing as though he expected this regardless. Hajime has to swallow back further agitation because he can tell Izuru isn’t surprised at all that he’s like this. “You’ve always been too soft, Hajime... Would you prefer I break the news to your assignment for you?”

“No!” The refusal came instantly, Hinata jerking to his feet on the branch and meeting Izuru’s blank gaze with eyes that were sharper, fiercer, more desperate—“I don’t need your help.”

“If you say so...” Izuru shrugged, and then... “If you end up overwhelmed again and change your mind, I don’t mind...”

“Don’t...” Hinata nearly bit out, frustrated to the point it stung. “Don’t  _patronize_  me, Izuru.”

“Hajime,” he returned, and he didn’t stand his ground, just remained calm and Hinata shut his eyes, apology heavy on his tongue as Izuru continued, “I was only...”

“A _ah_.”

Soft. Almost unassuming. Ignorable. But one that had Hinata snapping his eyes back open and turning to the source. “Excuse me?”

Hinata was frozen with shock, but Izuru paused and turned to the new member of conversation with ease. Komaeda Nagito was meekly smiling at them both, having opened the window that neither of them heard, and leaned forward, looking up at the two of them with wide, curious gray-greens. Looking right  _at them_. Curiously. “If it’s not too impertinent, may I ask a question?”

And he still kept his head down politely. To people that for all he knew were just  _bizarre strangers in a tree outside the window of his hospital room_. Hinata couldn’t stop gawking, but Izuru, of course, wasn’t remotely fazed. “You may.”

 “Alright then. Are you two angels?” Those eyes were bright and inquisitive, head tilting and face lit up from the possibility. Hinata felt his chest ache, his mouth shut tight, and his gaze dropped. He almost answered, but ended up unable, hesitating too much. But,  of course, that was what Izuru was there for at this point.

“No, that’s wrong.” Easy. Simple. Hinata almost laughed. Komaeda Nagito did chuckle though, lighter and sounding of vague disappointment.

Disappointment and something else. Something deeper. He wasn’t sure. Izuru would have known, but he didn’t, even as the human responded, “Then... Strange stalkers after all? Or mere delinquents? You two felt much grander than something so subpar... Well, I should just tell the nurses to call the police then. And maybe question the staff—they really should be keener, considering their jobs, and to miss this...”

“H-Hold on, please don’t,” Hinata finally found it in himself to talk—and he glared at Izuru for looking vaguely interested in where this conversation was going. He managed to go on, steadying his tone so that he didn’t start stammering again, “You’re...not completely wrong. Normal people aren’t supposed to see us... So...don’t trouble them. We’re grim reapers.”

He would have been more aggravated with himself if he wasn’t so focused on the way Komaeda Nagito looked them both over, smile slowly falling off his face. Hinata started to wonder if he’d suspect this of being a prank—a poor one in taste and execution—but then he exhaled an ‘oh’ like he actually understood. “So I’m going to die after all.”

He said it like it was a mundane observation over the weather, and somehow that concerned Hinata even more, causing him to mutter, “I’m...sorry to have to tell you this...”

From the branch, he drifted closer towards the other—his future assignment, and glancing back pleadingly at Izuru. Izuru remained where he was, quiet and patient, twirling a finger around one of his long locks of black hair. Hinata turned back, and hoped he at least looked sincere, “Komaeda Nagito, right? I’m not sure how long it’ll be, but... I...”

“I was expecting this to happen, so it’s nothing.” The immediacy surprised him, and a grin resurfaced on that pale face. Hinata’s frown deepened as he cheerily continued, “I’ve always had a weak body and I’ll be frank—most doctors didn’t look too hopeful about me. That you’re here, reaper-san, isn’t a surprise to me at all so there’s no need to look so upset over someone like me... But I must say, it _is_  unfair you know my name before properly introducing yourself. But for the sake of formalities, I’ll introduce myself anyway. I’m Komaeda Nagito. You can continue using my full name if you so wish—but just my family name is serviceable you know, reaper-san. Do you have a name you’d prefer I use?”

“Hinata Hajime... And he’s Kamukura Izuru...” Instinctive, bland, but when Hinata looks back at Izuru, he feels torn and at a loss. “Izuru... Don’t you have your  _own_  business to attend to?”

“Yes, between checking up on you,” Izuru states matter-of-factly before nodding politely in the human’s direction. The gesture is mirrored, Hinata dully notes, but he perks up when Izuru looks back towards him. “I’ll speak to you later, Hajime.”

“Yeah,” Hinata mumbles, and Izuru looks between him and his assignment—gaze lingering on what Hinata is sure is his blatant nerves and still prevailing uncertainty...contrasting against Komaeda Nagito, ah,  _Komaeda’s_  chipper calm.

“Later, then,” Izuru eventually finished with a final nod before flying off. Hinata muttered another agreement, but to his side, Komaeda happily called out best wishes, uncaring it seemed of any passing-by people that would probably stop to look oddly at the hospital patient shouting so happily at an empty sky. Taking it all in stride either way without a single care.

But for Hinata, he just felt the weight of the situation that much heavier on his shoulders.

* * *

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda turns back to him once Izuru’s fully gone from sight, with that smile that only succeeds in making it feel like his stomach’s sinking. “Can I offer to let you inside? As much as I like getting fresh air, this is a bit...”

“Y-Yes, of course... Sorry about that, Komaeda.” Hinata flies in through and stands on the floor of Komaeda’s hospital room. It’s cold, but clean, though the overall silence excluding the click of when Komaeda shuts the window is a bit unsettling. Actually no, Hinata can hear the whirl of a machine if he listens in hard enough... Somehow, that doesn’t make it better.

What makes it worse is when he turns back to Komaeda and sees the wires attached to his skin along with bone jutting up from beneath thin sinew. Somehow he looked paler, even  _frailer_  than earlier; especially with the careful way he settles back into the hospital bed and pulls the sheets over him. Hinata only averts his gaze when Komaeda glances back at him, and he feels the weight in his gut sink even further with shame.

“It shouldn’t be that hard—looking at me, I mean,” Komaeda says, voice light and unassuming. “As a grim reaper, you’ve probably seen worse.”

 _He’s right. I have. But that doesn’t make this...better. Izuru would scold me though, then again I wonder..._

“You don’t need to say things like that. Regardless,” he has to start now if he wants to get anywhere. “I’ll be watching over you from now on. So...”

“Take good care of me until then?” Komaeda laughs and Hinata flinches—almost gets flustered as Komaeda waves his hands to show he was joking. “Never mind that. I’m sorry, though. I hope I don’t burden you for too long, Hinata-kun.”

 _Huh?_   “It’s not a burden, it’s...an assignment.”

“If there’s anything I can do to make it easier then,” Komaeda continues with that same carefree cheer. “Do let me know if you can!”

 _How can a human say these things? It’s not even that he’s elderly—the book says that he’s only in his late teens. This guy..._  “I’ll...keep that in mind?”

Komaeda’s smile only brightens.

 _I don’t understand him at all._

* * *

After the first night, Komaeda jerks awake with a gasp. Hinata perks up at the same time he scrambles to gulp down the water set beside his bed. He swallows with a cough, and Hinata’s fingers tighten as he watches the fading flicker of the aura around him... Then Komaeda beats his chest a few times, and sighs.

“Oh, Hinata-kun...” he still flinches though, when Komaeda turns to him with another indecipherable expression. If Hinata had any word for it— _even though he wasn’t nearly as good at this sort of thing as Izuru was—_ the only one he could think of would be... _sad_. Or something like that. “You’re...still here?”

The confusion in this apparent observation honestly surprises him. “I said I’d be watching over you.”  _You’re not dead yet. You’re still here. Still breathing. Still_ **alive** _. So I can’t go yet. But can I really say all that? But still, why..._  “Why would you think I’d leave when it hasn’t even been a day?”

“Oh, no reason,” Komaeda still seemed a bit morose but suddenly another smile lit up his face. “But then again this is new for me... I’m so use to waking up alone—so seeing that someone’s here with me... It’s a bit strange. Not that I dislike it, of course! Don’t mind me, Hinata-kun, I’ll just...go back to sleep...”

_He says all that while faltering again... This Komaeda Nagito sure is a wishy-washy person. If he’ll end up troubling though, I can’t say for sure. Maybe Izuru would know. But... Actually..._

“You know,” Hinata found himself speaking while Komaeda settled back in bed, and the words coming out of his mouth had the human immediately perk up in intrigue and turn to him with wide, waiting eyes. “Aren’t ‘support’ and ‘stability’ from other humans essential to overall living?”

“Oh,” Komaeda breathed, and his gaze dropped a bit as he sighed. “I suppose that’s why I’m in here then, if that’s truly the case, Hinata-kun.”

 _What?_ “Komaeda...?”

“Never mind that,” Komaeda seemed to say that quite a bit, he noticed.  _Never mind._  As if he were so miniscule that his thoughts and voice didn’t matter to anyone who just so happened to hear them. Such self-deprecation like that was...a bit worrying. But Hinata couldn’t think of a way to respond to it—he was a  _reaper_ , not a  _therapist_.

Yet those words still seemed to make him feel  _guilty_...

 _“It’s because you’re too soft_.” He could hear Izuru’s voice, scolding him the same way he always did and making him feel small in the vastness of the world.  _“You care too much.”_

 _Yeah..._  Hinata agreed with the mental assessment, watching blankly as Komaeda twisted and shut his eyes. After a while, his breathing grew steady and his movements less squirmy as he returned to still slumber.  _I really do._

* * *

Being in a hospital meant Komaeda’s day was just extra mundane and routine. He’d wake up, he’d be served breakfast, he’d get check-ups, he’d be served lunch, maybe a bathroom break, maybe more check-ups, dinnertime, and then he’d just fall asleep if not pass out. The only anomaly in this absurdly dull humdrum was Hinata’s presence, quietly personifying the upcoming arrival that would end this everyday tedium.

Komaeda takes it all in stride, and save for a few side smiles cast his direction whenever the nurse leaves, it really feels like Hinata’s existence— _for the time being_ —really doesn’t make a difference in the dying human’s life. Somehow,  _that_ thought is more than Hinata can start to bear rather than Komaeda’s ‘busy’ monochromatic schedule.

Either way, he snapped one day and attempted to strike up a conversation. “Don’t you get bored?”

“I’m eating, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda swallowed down his food with a few gulps of his water bottle.  His expression today is a bit blank, but it could also read as tired...even though it’s the middle of the day. Then again, Komaeda only ever seemed alert when startled by a nightmare. Excluding when they first met when he practically rushed to the window to talk to two strangers in the tree.  _Huh._  “But the answer is yes—more times than I can count. Would you like to know the number of stripes on the curtains?”

“I...no. No, I don’t.” Hinata glances briefly at said curtains—it’s a cross-hatch pattern of dull light reds that were almost pink. That Komaeda would stare at such a thing long enough to count...is very telling of just how bored the other gets. But it does give him somewhat of an idea. “Komaeda, are you curious about anything?”

“Like what being a grim reaper is about? If you want to tell me about your background, Hinata-kun, by all means...” Komaeda tore off a piece of bread with his fingers before plopping it into his mouth. Despite that he looked eager, attention perked and expression clear with the intent to closely listen. It flusters him; Hinata can’t remember if he’s ever been look at like that before. “How do you become a grim reaper, if I can ask?”

 _If you know,_  he was implying. It was only fitting he’d start with that question, but despite Hinata having been the one to dive headfirst into this conversation idea... It didn’t necessarily make his innocuous question easier to answer. “Well, I... I wasn’t born like this—I used to be human.”

“Really? You must have died already then,” Komaeda noted this nonchalantly, but his eyes were bright with intrigue. “Will I become a grim reaper too?”

The thought had Hinata’s throat squeeze in on himself and he felt that emptiness inside his chest  _ache_. “You shouldn’t.” He’s stern at first—and when Komaeda blinks at him innocently like he doesn’t understand and of course he  ** _doesn’t_** _why the hell would he_ —“This isn’t some kind of ascension, Komaeda, it’s penance.”

Komaeda doesn’t even drop his bread. He just blinks once more, and exhales a soft ‘oh’ as he bites into the piece in his hand. “Really? Something like that is  _punishment_?”

The grim reaper was incredulous that he sounded so...surprised. “Why... Why would it be anything  _else_? It’s not like I  _wanted_  to be surrounded by death in the afterlife when I had been alive.”  _I didn’t want that at all. I just..._

_I just wanted it all to **end**..._

_I **needed**  escape..._

_I instead ended up **trapped**._

Then abruptly, Komaeda wondered aloud, “Come to think of it—is your name from when you were human? But what would you need a full name for as a grim reaper? Do you have paperwork?”

“Huh?” Hinata gawked as the human tapped his chin and looked thoughtful. Somehow that look irritated the hell out of him. “How should  _I_  know? A lot of our names are assigned when we show up rather than carried over. I don’t even remember if my name  _was_  Hinata Hajime or not.”

“Oh so you might have been  _given_  that name, Hinata-kun?” he asked brightly with that carefree cheer of his and somehow, against his will, Hinata calms down a little. Just a  _little_  as Komaeda laughs. “If that’s true—how lucky of you!”

 _What exactly does he mean by given? Is he implying the name was a gift?  And why would he even say..._ “Lucky? How so?”

“Ah, well...” Now Komaeda’s the one who seems a bit nervous. “I just thought... A name like yours is a nice one to have. It speaks of good fortune and  _hope_  if that, ah, makes any sense? It’s a beautiful name, and to have one like it is...nice. Sorry, I must sound weird.”

“What...the  _hell_...” Hinata’s hand lifts to press against his face. He might feel a bit warm, and that almost aggravates him. It could have just been a trick of his mind though, and wouldn’t  _that_ be hysterical. Still... “You’re right... It’s weird. But I don’t mind that much.”

“That’s good—the last thing I want to do is trouble you, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda’s smile now is a bit meeker, but the pieces fall into place with the statement.

_So him changing the subject like that so awkwardly... That was because he actually noticed. So, then, he was trying to lighten the mood?_

“It’s...fine...” he muttered again, blankly, though he felt his worries genuinely drain away as Komaeda’s carefree grin reappeared and widened until his face lit up. “Hey, Komaeda, I...”

“I’m still eating, Hinata-kun.” Whatever he was going to say halted as Komaeda suddenly shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth. Hinata flew over to make sure he didn’t choke, but Komaeda brushed him off. “Can I ask one last thing before I finish?”

 _I was the one who started this in the first place..._  “Uh, yeah. Shoot.”

“Hmm. I was wondering, since you aren’t alive... Does it  _feel_ that much different? Are your senses sharper perhaps?”

“Huh?”  _Oh, he doesn’t mean..._  “No. Not really. We can hear and see well enough, but not so much anything else. I mean, yeah we can touch things, but... It... It doesn’t feel like  _much_  of anything. So it’s actually...duller  _that_  way, I guess.”

“I see...” Komaeda’s finger traced a circle on his plate, and his smile was neutral. “How interesting.”

He didn’t comment anymore after that—just finished his meal in unassuming silence. Though agitation riled up in Hinata’s gut again the more he thought about that simple comment.

_What did he **mean**  by that anyway?_

Still, with the look of serene calm on Komaeda’s face...it was hard to think of him as particularly dubious. But Komaeda was...odd. Peculiar, compared to most humans. Then again, most humans couldn’t  _see him_.

Though that didn’t change the fact that Komaeda wasn’t a bad person. Not really. He was just...strange.

He was just a little strange.

* * *

Komaeda seemed to suffer from nightmares often.

This one in particular was bad enough that he actually knocked his bottle of water off the bedside table. It skidded across the floor, spinning and spilling and Komaeda’s croaked ‘oh’ was more than enough to get Hinata to step in to retrieve it before it got everywhere.

“Oh,  _no_ ,” Komaeda groaned, his hands dragging down his face and for once, he looked surprisingly agitated. His shoulders gave just the slightest bit of tremor. His voice was breaking just the slightest bit too. “I’d need to warn the nurses about that. I can’t have anyone slipping and hurting themselves because of me. I’m really sorry about this, Hinata-kun.”

“Your voice is getting raspy. Drink.” Hinata handed him the bottle. Komaeda frowned but downed a chunk of the water quickly, following it with a wet cough. Hinata’s tone grew sterner. “Don’t force yourself, Komaeda.”

Komaeda nods and takes a smaller, steadier sip of the little that was left. He coughed again a few more times, gave a few beats against his chest, and sighed. Despite waking up with a jerk, he always slumped with fatigue and tiredness after managing a quick recovery.

“You...” Hinata struggles to speak at first, especially as Komaeda stares at him with wide, dulled gray eyes that seemed almost dusky in the darkness. “You should go back to sleep, Komaeda. It’s an unholy hour.”

Komaeda’s lips quirked into a smile. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Hinata-kun. Though that was a poor joke on your part. But I suppose that doesn’t really matter...”

“Matter? You need to sleep for your health...” And then Hinata stops when he’s given a look. Komaeda’s smile is still on his lips, but his eyes are downturned and he can already hear the soft, gentle response.

_I’m already not healthy, Hinata-kun. And I’m already fated to die._

**_But...still..._ **

“It’s not your time, yet.” His voice is quiet, but he’s also pleading. “Just go back to sleep. You need to sleep for now.”

“You know,” Komaeda says, his tone a bit bright. “I never thought that I’d be so pathetic that even the spirit that’s waiting for me to die instead spends his time  _pitying_  me.”

But he settles back in bed while Hinata’s still and cold, and smiles warmly up at him. “Well then, good night, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata can’t say a word as he turns onto his side, back to him, and falls back into that silent slumber.

Even after that, staying in that room doesn’t get any easier. If anything, it gets too be too much for him after a while.

He leaves just as Komaeda stirs.

* * *

He doesn’t go far, but he’s sure Izuru would have easily found him all the same even if he had.

“Komaeda Nagito doesn’t go outside, Hajime.”

“...That doesn’t surprise me.” Hinata muttered, hugging his knees closer to himself. He doesn’t look at Izuru, just keeps silent with his back to the hospital building and eyes vaguely stuck on a dandelion that was barely ruffled by the slight breeze. He hears Izuru sigh—that broodiness the long-haired male gives off naturally whenever he shows up gets heavier and Hinata immediately feels the need to say he’s  _sorry_ , he’s  ** _really_**  sorry,  ** _he just_ isn’t**—

“Is the assignment being difficult?” Izuru asks, making Hinata perk up and slowly turn to stare at the other. His expression doesn’t look particularly invested or even interested—it’s that cold look as always, but his head does tilt a bit signifying curiosity and slight care. “If it’s too much for you, I’ll take care of it.”

Hinata’s fingers dug into his arms, and he hesitated this time. “We’d both get yelled at if you did that. You’ve covered for me too many times already, Izuru.”

“It makes no difference to me as long as the assignment gets done. Those who think otherwise are of no concern.” It’s something else that Izuru can say such things with ease. Hinata hates being criticized and looked down on, but nothing seemed to faze Izuru. He admired it almost as much as he was unsettled by it, especially since Izuru’s focused gaze was now set on him. “It’s your call, Hajime. It would be more problematic if his soul were to slip away from us, so someone has to do the job.”

“I... I’ll do it, Izuru, don’t worry. Komaeda’s ah, aura, isn’t so faded that he’s likely to die today.” Hinata shakily pushed himself off, trying to laugh as he did. The sound was harsh on his throat and he’d have to be an idiot to think it’d fool Izuru for a second. Izuru was unmoved but he knew—Hinata  _knew_  that the other saw right through him. Izuru was good at that, Hinata was too easy to figure out, and Izuru knew  _him_  far too well already. “I just needed some time to gather myself. I’m still unused to...reaping. Especially one that’s still so  _young_. And that Komaeda sees me, and talks to me, it’s...”

“If you grew attached,” Izuru states, dull and matter-of-fact, “Then you will be in a very troubling situation, Hajime.”

Hinata froze immediately.

“It happens sometimes, that grim reapers grow too attached to their assignments,” the other continues, twirling a lock of raven black hair around his finger. For a second, Hinata’s traitorous mind thinks of Komaeda doing the same with one of his wild white curls, the same calm on his face as Izuru’s but with a soft smile pulling at his lips... Izuru doesn’t smile like that— _he doesn’t even smile at all_...  ** _He’s never smiled once since I met him._**  “Of course, this usually ruins them when it does. If they don’t throw everything away for that soul living, they fall into despair from having to reap a creature they grew to care deeply for. It’s always problematic and if there was a way to forbid such an occurrence, the higher ups would take any means necessary to make it so. But it still happens, and sometimes the reaper can’t even  _help_  themselves—the assignment’s so vulnerable that they drive up old protective instincts...”

 _“I never thought that I’d be so pathetic that...”_  Komaeda’s voice hisses into his ear and Hinata has to stop it then and there.

“No, it’s... It’s not like that. I swear it’s not.”

Izuru mercifully stops, but the look Hinata receives is hardened. He doesn’t ask what it actually is and he doesn’t need to. Hinata explains himself anyway.

“He can see me, Izuru.” And it’s an explanation that makes enough and not enough sense. Even though Hinata can’t  _really_  explain it, it’s just... “He can _see_ me. He  _talks_  to me. Komaeda, he...”

_He knows I’m **there**._

For a while, Izuru doesn’t answer. When he does respond, the words are slow and calculated, “And you’re sure you can handle that? Being  _seen_. Being  _spoken_  to. By an  _assignment_.”

“No.” Hinata admits, swallowing and struggling to steel himself. “But I’m going to stick with it.”

“Alright then,” Izuru closes his eyes. Hinata lets out the sigh he doesn’t even know he’s holding as the other gestures to the window above. “You should return to your work. Chances are, Komaeda Nagito is wondering where you might be. You mustn’t give the false impression that he might live for quite a bit longer after all.”

Hinata tries to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat so he just presses his lips together and nods. His gaze averts so he ends up not noticing Izuru’s eyes flickering back open to stare at him, hard and focused.

He just needs to return and do his job.

* * *

Komaeda Nagito, his assignment, isn’t still sleeping when he phases back through the wall. He’s instead focused on reading a book placed in his lap, and he hasn’t even noticed Hinata yet. Hinata, frozen, wonders if he should clear his throat, call out to him, or something—and another part of him wants to run away again, maybe take Izuru up on his offer after all, but if he did that...

“Hinata-kun.” Komaeda states, cool and calm. “Did you enjoy your break?”

_...Break? And what’s up with that casual business tone?_

Then it dawned on him, and he flinched with the realization.  _Right. This is business after all. I said that from the get-go. Komaeda hasn’t forgotten that, and even without Izuru telling me this earlier, I still know... But..._

It’s because he was too soft then, that he ended up hesitating anyway. That he ended up avoiding the question altogether with another one to change the subject, “That book... Did a nurse get that for you?”

“Oh, yes, one did.” At that, Komaeda shows him the cover, his usual cheery smile on his face. “It’s an anthology of short stories and mythologies. I actually wanted to see if there was anything about grim reapers in here or anything else—they have a library you know, and I used to go there often when I wasn’t confined to this room—but what I actually did manage to find is a lot different from, well, what I’ve actually seen thus far... Then again, the fashion sense for the most part would have been a given. Suits are only a few centuries old after all. Ehehe, but I guess it’s fancier than a hooded cloak.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Hinata replies lowly, folding his arms and looking towards the tiles below where he drifted, where there wasn’t so much as a shadow. Komaeda waves his comment off, shaking his head.

“Not at all. It looks nice on you. So form-fitting!” _Because Izuru made it._  But Hinata just bit the inside of his lips as Komaeda hummed cheerily. It only took a while for the following silence to get uncomfortable again.

“It was...kind of the nurses to bring you something like that.” A lame comment, and Hinata found himself tugging at his tie as he tried to smile casually. “Now it’s gotten a lot less boring, right?”

“If I was worried about boredom, I’d just talk to you rather than wrap myself up in stories.” The human laughed, light and airy and making Hinata perk up. Komaeda still had that air of calm, but there was a distance to his gaze even as he looked directly at the grim reaper. “After all, it’s a lot more interesting to speak to the real thing rather than just simply read some author’s interpretation right? At least, that’s what I think—it’s more of the ‘truth’ you know? Or at least what I can perceive of it, for all I know, Hinata-kun could just be one elaborate ongoing hallucination. Though I do wonder if someone like me could truly come up with something like that.”

Hinata remained silent as Komaeda hummed again, pensively pursing his lips as he took on a thoughtful pose. “But if that’s true... Kamukura-kun from earlier must have been a delusion as well. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“Izuru...” the brunet found himself starting only to stop as the other perked up with those bright eyes alit with curiosity. Hinata hesitated under that stare, stammering a bit as he managed to continue, “Izuru’s busy with his own assignments.”

_And I..._

**_“If it’s too much for you, I’ll take care of it.”_ **

_I’ve been trying my best not to rely on him so much. I don’t want to be a burden to Izuru anymore. Not with everything he’s done for me._

“To think I would conjure up a workaholic that was also so  _moody_ ,” Komaeda commented aloud while stroking his chin, making Hinata jerk with wide-eyed attention. “I wonder what exactly  _that_  says about me...”

“Are you serious right now?” Hinata asked warily.

“I don’t know,  _‘Hinata-kun’_. Shouldn’t  _you_  know whether or not you’re just a figment of my imagination?” He _looked_  serious, despite everything. Hinata stared back, corner of his mouth twitching.

“I... Izuru and I aren’t hallucinations, Komaeda. Though if you really think otherwise, I’m not sure what answer you’d want for that question.”

“That sounds like what a hallucination would say.” Komaeda deadpanned, unconvinced. “How suspicious.”

“...You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

Komaeda breaking face and immediately giggling into his hand answered that question, and Hinata couldn’t be more exasperated as he stared, glare narrowed before that pale hand swished in his direction with the owner’s smile noticeably apologetic now. “I knew you were real since you picked my bottle up for me. I never thanked you for that, Hinata-kun, so thank you.”

Any annoyance completely faded away, leaving only confusion and slight sheepishness. He could only rub at the nape of his neck, vaguely grateful he couldn’t blush. “That...was nothing. You came up with that lame joke just to tell me that?”

“That’d be a convoluted way to thank someone, don’t you think? I know I can be a bit confusing at times, but I’d like to think I’m not so...nonsensical.” Komaeda’s laugh was lighter, though something about it was...heavier. Something that brought forth Hinata’s own need to apologize like it had been with Izuru.

_But what even was that..._

“Hey, Hinata-kun,” Hinata looked at him, taking in that sad smile again, and it was like something in him just dropped. “I’m really not something to overthink so much. I may say strange things, but they’re just what I think a lot of the time without me putting up a filter. So you don’t need to put so much thought into them, yes?”

“I don’t...” And then Hinata recalled, immediately, one of the many things Komaeda told him so easily earlier.

**_“The last thing I want to do is trouble you, Hinata-kun.”_ **

“...Oh.”  _It’s just him trying to lighten the mood again._  Hinata nodded, his agreement much meeker. “Yeah, I... I get what you’re saying. I wouldn’t put it like that though.”

“Probably because you’re so kind.” Komaeda returns, so effortlessly and quickly despite the word freezing Hinata to his core. Komaeda’s warm smile at him, even more kind-hearted he doesn’t doubt, just drives that feeling in deeper. He flinches for some reason when Komaeda holds up the book, though thankfully it isn’t noticed as the other cheerily continues, “The stories in here actually are interesting. Did you like mythologies when you were alive?”

 _When you were alive._  Grim reapers certainly wouldn’t ask questions like that. Izuru only would if that ‘when he was alive’ interfered with his assignments. And yet Komaeda asked so carelessly. He was like that, sometimes, despite his caution as well.

“I liked a lot of folklore and fairy tales...when I was...a kid, I think. I don’t remember much of my human life at all.” It wasn’t like Hinata himself was much better though, given that he put that sad smile on Komaeda’s face again. “It’s...nothing to worry about, not anymore. I wouldn’t mind reading that with you, Komaeda. Thanks for the offer.”

“Don’t mention it! It’s not like  _my_  life is of any interest either even if I do still remember, but a _ah_. Maybe I should watch my place a bit better.” Hinata wanted to argue with that, but his own curiosity and Komaeda continuing on prevented that, “Hinata-kun, which story do you want to read first?”

_Komaeda’s never mentioned his life before... Not even how he lived before he ended up here..._

Despite that, he pointed at one randomly, and kept his mouth shut as Komaeda beamed, exclaiming this was one of the ones he really liked. He was certainly eager to flip to it, and for Hinata to read through it with him, and unlike Komaeda who could ask careless questions so easily at times...

Hinata couldn’t bring himself to ask. Especially when the question risked the loss—however momentary—of that smile.

He really  _was_  too soft.

* * *

They didn’t get through the entire anthology before Komaeda dozed off, Hinata catching the book so it didn’t slip out of his hands when he did, and he set it on the table open on the last page so it wouldn’t be lost. For Komaeda himself, he helped the other settle further under the sheets into a more comfortable sleeping position. Komaeda mumbled a bit incoherently, and Hinata simply hushed him while brushing his hair back.

He realized what he was doing once he registered the flaring  _warmth_  under his fingertips, he snapped his hand back like he had burned it, flinching. Izuru’s words reemerged in his head, despite his instant denial of them at the time.

_“Sometimes the reaper can’t even help themselves—the assignment’s so vulnerable that they drive up old protective instincts...”_

But it couldn’t be like  _that_. Hinata certainly didn’t remember any ‘instincts’ about this...even if the action was performed without thinking—but it was because he just  _felt like it_. He’d been watching over Komaeda for a while now outside of that ‘break’— _which, the more he thought about it, in Komaeda’s blank tone when he referred to it, the more he ended up hating himself for even taking that ‘break’ in the first place_ —and it wasn’t out of line to take at least some care to his assignment. It wasn’t as though it would somehow cure Komaeda of the sickness that was killing him.

 _...Yes, that’s right._  Hinata knew that—the little book he carried that gave him these assignments, that had Komaeda’s name in bold letters to denote that his upcoming death was final and damn near unavoidable, told him that from the get go.

_But...then why...?_

Hinata blinked, staring down at Komaeda. As usual, the other was mostly still while he slept, serene, but the sight of his chest moving as he breathed, of his lips parting, ended up twisting his supposedly hollow insides into something undeniably painful. He was almost reminded of those souls he managed to fetch while the owners passed away in their sleep and the memory has him nearly wince even though he knows this won’t be the night.

But, looking at those frail features on Komaeda’s face, at that pallid complexion and then at thin frame that the hospital gown hung off of, it somehow all managed to keep that certainty from being entirely convincing.

_That day is soon, however. This won’t last longer._

Komaeda had mentioned that, while they were reading, he considered asking a nurse to bring him different books if possible, and even asked Hinata if there was anything the grim reaper was interested in. Hinata brushed off the question at the time, but he was sincerely flustered. Komaeda may have misinterpreted him, given his apology afterwards at his inability to come up with more riveting ways to pass the time other than them just chattering at each other. As if it was Komaeda’s fault that his activities were so limited between care and treatment and that he could get so tired out by both.

It wouldn’t be much longer until that everyday tedium Komaeda went through would come to a complete end. Really, the more Hinata thought about it, the less this day by day experience seemed less like actually  _living_.

_“I suppose that’s why I’m in here then, if that’s truly the case, Hinata-kun.”_

_...It’s **pathetic**._  Izuru would certainly think that way, and Izuru had probably known all along.  _But it’s not like I know Komaeda that well, either._

Which wasn’t  _out of line_ , true, but Hinata still felt guilt over it, along with the desire to rectify it. It  _was_  wrong, most likely, for a grim reaper to think that way— _then again how many grim reapers truly consorted with their assignments in the first place?_ —especially given the lecture Izuru gave him before. About grim reapers growing  _too_  attached.

_But it’s not like that. What difference would it make anyway?_

Izuru would know how to answer that. But he wasn’t Izuru and never would be Izuru because Izuru always knew what to do and he just always seemed to just plain know  _everything_. Hinata himself, meanwhile...

_“You’re so kind, Hinata-kun.”_

He could only just do his best...  _Why the hell did he have to remember that_ now  _of all times?_

He’d been scolded, before, on being too soft, especially when it hindered his ability to do his work as a grim reaper. Even when Izuru took care of it for him, the feelings of inadequacy that came from it all was still...hard on his shoulders, to say the least. In a way, this could be that smarter part of himself warning him that his ‘kindness’ towards Komaeda could end up a very real obstacle if it got too far out of hand.

_But could it really get that far?_

Hinata really wondered as Komaeda sighed in his sleep, causing him to jump a bit.

* * *

Komaeda managed to sleep well, thankfully, and even finished his breakfast faster than usual. Though that might have been eagerness to finish the anthology from yesterday, which Hinata took with a smile regardless of the remaining stories’ actual interest or quality, and Komaeda must have felt the same.

“And done! Do you have any idea now if you wanted to read something else next, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda slammed the book shut with the exclamation, quickly turning to smile at him for the question, and Hinata could only shrug, much to the youth’s exasperation. “Oh dear, did you even think about it after I asked?”

“Uh...”  _Not really. But if I say that, it’s just going to make him upset._  Even though he was sure Komaeda was disappointed already, given that his lips were puffed out almost like a pout.

 _...Cute._  And Hinata immediately shut his eyes and swallowed. “H-How about something...something like... More short stories? Is that alright?”

“Another anthology?  _Really_ , Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asked, though he sighed and shrugged his shoulders as well once Hinata managed to look at him again. “I don’t mind those, actually, since they’re very convenient with the amount of material they cover... The issue is that they’re heavy, but it’s not as though I’ll be carrying it around when I’m confined to my bed most of the time, right?”

But then there was a small smile on the white-haired youth’s face, a soft pink dusting those pale cheeks, and Hinata exhaled in slight surprise. “Komaeda...”

“Don’t get me wrong!!” the other exclaimed quickly, flushed and flustered. “I would enjoy it either way, but... I think it’s funny—reading together like this like we’re friends...when you’re a grim reaper. But this is better than waiting around while my boring last days drag on and on, isn’t it? In fact... It’s almost impertinent for me  _to_  enjoy it with that in mind, huh? A _ah_...”

His smile faltered, to Hinata’s dismay and said grim reaper immediately shook his head. “I don’t think that way. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be bored, even if you going to die soon. Why would you think otherwise, Komaeda? That’s not...”

 _That’s not normal._ But he stopped himself from saying it. What wasn’t normal was that he was having this conversation in the first place. What really wasn’t normal was how Komaeda just smiled again,  _at him_ , and chuckled.

“Boredom and tedium are both things that people are naturally adverse to, aren’t they? I can’t imagine that changing as long as you keep existing. That’s why I’m glad we can at least do something like this to pass the time.” His hands wrung together, Komaeda humming with the gesture as he added, tone lighter, “I do hope assignments following me are interesting on their own or can at least provide better conversations.”

Hinata wrinkled his nose at those first few statements, though he was sure he agreed. Even Izuru, as hardworking as he was, showed distaste at such things— _even if it had taken Hinata a while to notice that, rather than thinking he was just being dry as always_ —and certainly, Hinata groaned at the more tedious assignments that were really just paperwork and sorting even though they provided a bit of a relief, but  _still_  comparing something like that to Komaeda...

“I don’t think that way at all.” He said, folding his arms with a soft tone of his own. “I like our conversations sometimes.”

“Oh, really? That’s good, I suppose,” Komaeda was cheery and chipper like usual, but looking at that face caused a sort of...twinge in his chest. It hurt in a way. And why, exactly,  _was_  that? There was nothing there but it still  _hurt_. Especially since he could already tell that Komaeda was just brushing the comment off, given that shrug of his shoulders in spite of his usual calm smile. “It’s nice to know that sometimes I’m not overly dismal.”

Hinata’s frown deepened, his arms tightening. “I...don’t think that way at all.”

“ _Haah_?” He did perk up, obviously confused with a raise in that usually unassuming tone. “Then what  _do_  you think? Or are you just changing your mind on what you said before? Hinata-kun, that’s surprising coming from you.”

“That’s not it.” There it was. That pain again despite being amidst nothing else. He couldn’t help but get frustrated. “I just... I don’t think  _that_  way. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“That’s...a strange question. I’m not even sure what answer you want, and all I was asking for was a little clarification. It would have been much easier to admit you  _didn’t know_ , you know.” Komaeda shrugged again, but it was more of an aggravated motion. His expression certainly was pinching up. “Shouldn’t you be asking stuff like this to  _Kamukura-kun_  rather than me?”

...Yes. That would be the better option, wouldn’t it? Kamukura  _Izuru_ , who  _always_  seemed to know what to do while Hinata was stuck  ** _always_** floundering. It’s no wonder Izuru had so little faith in him.

**_“If it’s too much for you, I’ll take care of it.”_ **

Izuru meant well. He knew that. He knew. But that didn’t meant it felt any less like he was just...lacking. Significantly.  _It’s sad._  Hinata had hoped he would have escaped this self-consciousness and constant onslaught of insecurities by now. He certainly tried...and look where it got him.

He didn’t want to think about this. That much was certain.

“Komaeda...” He probably shouldn’t have come off so pleading, so desperate. But Komaeda dropped that annoyed look so blessedly quickly, blinking wide doe eyes with curious receptiveness, and Hinata feels almost like he’s begging. “Before the nurse gets here, can we reread the story about the bird? I actually really liked that one.”

“Oh, sure!” And Komaeda beamed, bright and calming in a way that Hinata was now beyond thankful for. Yet, somehow, there was still that pang _again_ , especially as the other cheerily continued, “I really like that one too! I certainly wouldn’t mind at all.”

He reached out and took the book again, opening it to the table of contents before flipping the pages to the desired story. Hinata hovered by his side as he did before, noting that calm smile still on the other’s face and also the more delicate features. The slope of his nose, the curvature of his lips and chin, his jaw... Thin.  _Sickly_. Yet somehow...

 _Perhaps ethereal?_  Hinata couldn’t help but wonder what exactly  _would_  change when the time came. There was that pain again, and he swallowed it down, tentatively recalling what Izuru said again, and...

When Komaeda started reading aloud, he shut his eyes and listened rather than looking over his shoulder at the illustrations.

* * *

There was something...unsettling about watching Komaeda undergo treatment. The room was more sealed, barren, like a real prison, and Komaeda was alone save for the doctors heavily uniformed and masked, going back and forth. Komaeda’s breathing was a bit rough, and he only weakly smiled when Hinata thoughtlessly drifted over him, and despite Hinata’s miserable inability to return it, it seemed impossible to drag the youth further down than he already was.

Komaeda would talk, sometimes—just poor conversation starters that all ended with Hinata parroting the doctor’s insistences that he’d rest. He would falter, sometimes, but eventually those eyes would flutter shut, and he’d fall into that serene slumber.

This time, despite everything, things were going well. Hinata would pull out that book while the doctors worked, not so much as muttering amongst themselves as they did, and the grim reaper checked the status of his assignment.

Komaeda Nagito’s life had been extended. Significantly so. But not to the point where Hinata could leave and return much later. Just enough that only his time here would be extended right along with it.

He was going remain here much longer.

Hinata closed the book, shuffling it back into its place. And without thinking much, he curled up, folding his arms over his knees as he watched Komaeda sleep on, breathing steady and soft.

* * *

“Hajime.” Unaffected as ever that the brunet flinched at his name being suddenly called, he continued on as blithely as ever. “Are you holding up well?”

“Not so loud! Komaeda just got transferred back to his room, Izuru, and he’s still resting.” Izuru blinked dully at him, still half-phased through the wall and unfazed at being snapped at, and Hinata raked his fingers through his hair, keeping his irritated voice hushed. “I’m...holding up fine. You didn’t need to check up on me like this.”

“Hmm.” Izuru pulled himself fully through, landing firmly on his feet as his arms folded while giving Hinata his usual cool stare. “It’s not out of line to be concerned. This is your longest job, and as it’s gotten even further prolonged...”

Hinata folded his arms in return, though they were taut against his chest, frown deepening. Izuru, noticing, dropped it and simply looked down blankly. “You’re looking tense. Has Komaeda Nagito been a handful thus far?”

“No...” Hinata swallowed, shaking his head. His arms tightened.  Despite himself, he glanced back at the Komaeda Nagito in question. Komaeda was still sleeping. Didn’t even look so much as stirred. Good. “No. Komaeda’s part of what makes this whole thing...bearable. He’s a good conversationalist.”

“Hm.” It was a short sound, clipped and cold. Cold enough that Hinata felt the frost creep along his spine, and the desire to curl up along with it.

“I... I-It’s not like that.” He shouldn’t have stammered. Doing so would only be more suspicious.

“I never implied it was.” And sure enough, Izuru saw right through the sad, suspicious statement, and Hinata’s throat was tight now. Even if he didn’t need to breathe, whenever this sort of thing happened, it always felt the same— ** _suffocating_**. Even though he knew Izuru meant well. He knew. Of course he did, he just... “Hajime.”

Hinata’s eyes screwed shut, throat refusing to work even though he didn’t really  _need_  it, he  ** _didn’t need_**...  _I-I just..._

A soft groan snapped him out of it, and there was his name again in the air followed by a yawn. “ _Aah_ , Hinata-kun?”

Soft. Not stern. Too curious to be cold, and Hinata turned to see Komaeda pushing himself up with a yawn, giving him a familiarly dreary constantly blinking gaze despite all that. He could almost laugh at the irony, though Komaeda’s eyes suddenly widened, mouth falling open. “Oh.” Then a tense, small smile. “Kamukura-kun, was it? Good morning. Is it still morning? Good day? It’s...truly a surprise seeing you here. You must be here to see Hinata-kun, right?”

“That is correct.” Izuru responds so simply, and when Hinata looks back, it’s just his usual expression to go with it. Any trace of sternness or coldness is gone when directed to Komaeda, like when they first talked to one another...the first time they all formally met.

It’s much more awkward this time though, and even Komaeda looks a little uncomfortable. Hinata tries to smile, but it feels too tense to be calming. When Komaeda smiles, it definitely does the intended effect better, even right now when Komaeda’s lips politely quirk up a bit further. “Don’t mind me, then. I’ll... I’ll go back to sleep if you want?”

“You need your sleep,” Hinata agrees, remembering to be irritated with that the other woke up in the first place. Izuru makes a sound of agreement, but then his silence drags on a bit, and Hinata pauses, looks at him, and knows there’s more he wants to say.

“There is no need on my account.” The words are carefully picked, though Hinata still can’t help but feel uneasy. Izuru shrugs, and continues, “Hajime seems to be doing fine... Though there is you...”

He seizes up, and Komaeda tilts his head in confusion. “Me?”

“You’re a rarity for lasting as long as you have, especially seeing as you are still marked as an ‘assignment’ to be watched over by a grim reaper.” Izuru explained, matter-of-fact and crisp, before commenting, in a softer tone, “That you can see us in spite of this...is curious. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter in the end.”

Hinata wondered.  _Is it really that unusual? And doesn’t it?_ But he held his tongue instead of voicing these questions. To Izuru, it really didn’t matter, and as for Komaeda...

“...Komaeda?” Startlingly, Komaeda was dead silent in response, head dropped and eyes obscured by those long, snowy-white curls, rendering his entire expression unreadable...but his hands, clenching whiter than bone into the sheets, seemed to say more than enough. Hinata nearly flinched, seeing how tense it was and taking this all in with a shaky voice, “H-Hey... Is something wrong?”

“Rarity.” Komaeda’s tone then surprised him, with how calm it was. But there was this eerie edge to it, one he never even heard with Izuru and never would have expected to hear with Komaeda. “That’s such a  _positive_  word, isn’t it? I suppose I should count myself lucky, being considered a  _rarity_. But  ** _really_**. There’s nothing remotely special about me at  _all_.”

Before Hinata could ask again, Komaeda’s hand tightened its grip even more. His entire body then quivered and tensed, like something ready to collapse...or detonate. “It doesn’t matter.” That tone was more like Izuru’s, mirroring it almost perfectly to the very note. But it’s still  _his_  voice. “But, still, I should consider myself  ** _lucky_**.”

“Komaeda,” Hinata almost begged, reaching out to grip that hand and moving to take his shoulder as well for the sake of it at least doing something. But neither gesture was meant to be when instead, he stopped before he could get too close as Komaeda raised his head a bit, revealing those eyes that looked much greener in the shadows with his lips pulled into a straight line. Neutral and steady now, like nothing really happened and somehow that quieted Hinata more than any vocal reassurances could.

“There isn’t any more to it than that, is there?” Komaeda asked him, worriedly in a way that takes him completely off-guard. His lips pulled down into a deep frown, concern flittering over those features. “Hinata-kun, you are doing well, aren’t you?”

“Y... _Yeah_...?” He’s not entirely sure now, if he was being honest, but answering any other way just didn’t feel right. Before he could come up with a better follow up though, he was being pulled back, his reaching useless hands falling back to his sides and he realized then that this was due to Izuru’s hands on his shoulders.

“Hajime, I’ll be leaving now if that’s truly the case,” he was informed, and when Hinata turned, Izuru’s expression held that same neutrality like it was— _like nothing really happened_. “Before I leave... I do still have a few concerns about  _that_.”

“It’s not like that.” Hinata’s not sure how many times he can repeat it, but he can be grateful that this time, at least, sounds steadier. More convincing. For once, Izuru nods rather than giving him a look. Hinata smiles then, relieved. “I’ll talk to ya later, Izuru.”

Izuru didn’t respond but disappeared through the floor, and for some reason, that brought the unease crawling back as Hinata’s arms wrapped back around himself. Then curiosity followed, picking at him, until he couldn’t help but turn back. “Hey, Komaeda.”

Komaeda had just finished drinking the last of his water bottle in the meantime, sighing and wiping off his mouth before blithely asking, “What is it?”

“I... Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Hmm?” He blinked a few times, tilting his head back in forth with a face that looked like he was really trying to think about it. Except he just smiled cheerily, carefree cheer, and chirped, “I’m not sure what you mean? Did you just want to talk to me more? Is that it? But I’m afraid I’m still not very good at picking subjects. But if you want to just talk to me about yourself then I have absolutely no—”

“I’ll tell you more about me if that’s what you really want,” Hinata replied, direct and to the point. He took a deep breath, so that maybe he’d keep his confidence once he continued, “I’d rather, though... I’d rather talk about you.”

Komaeda’s smile remained, even as he hummed, slowly placing the empty bottle back on the bedside table. Then he sighed. “A _ah_ , well, that’s truly unfortunate. There’s really not much to talk about there, Hinata-kun. I’ve never been a terribly interesting person, so I fear what little there is will simply bore you.”

“I doubt that.” The words came unbidden and yet with the same matter-of-fact tone. Hinata drew closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed with a respectable distance between him and Komaeda’s legs, though, they both noticed that the blanket didn’t shift nor did the bed dip under the reaper’s ‘weight’. Hinata’s eyes rose and met Komaeda’s roughly the same time he did the same. His voice comes out softer, more coaxing, “So? Let’s hear it. Unless, you don’t want to...”

“It’s not like that.” Komaeda was quiet, but that smile then looked rueful before widening with a chuckle that really did sound almost pained. “But if you insist, Hinata-kun, how can I refuse?”

Hinata held his tongue, but couldn’t stop himself from thinking that even if he was getting what he asked for—it really felt a little  _wrong_ , when Komaeda put it like  _that_. Still, he started this himself, and he might as well listen until the very end.

* * *

“So, should I start with conception?” The question was incredibly cheery in a staunch contrast to earlier. Komaeda, stretching out his arms, even had a more genuine grin on his face. “Or perhaps my first real moment being born into this world?”

“You don’t seriously remember that far back, do you?” Hinata asked warily in return, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t even need Komaeda laughing and shaking his head ‘no’ to well, know that that wasn’t seriously the case. He couldn’t help but sigh. “Just start with wherever you feel comfortable, Komaeda. Any place is fine.”

“Mm. Alright. Well. I don’t remember those times too clearly, but I do know that...” Komaeda paused for a moment, almost as if in contemplation, but then continued on cheerfully all the same like he just brushed it off. “As a child, I was rather simple to care for. Perhaps even  _easy_  to take care of. I was always reserved and perhaps quite shy— _definitely_  cautious—and to my parents, who were already well-used to the concept of work and responsibilities, I must have been rather boring. But they were kind to me, in the very least. They were  _hardworking_ , of course, but...”

His fingers entwined carefully, his smile slowly fading. “They were very kind. Even with such a boring, quiet child, they were still willing to take me places and grant me even more new experiences. I was happy—somehow, they must have been happy too—but perhaps we pushed it a little too much. My parents didn’t survive for very long. They died when I was still in elementary school.”

Hinata didn’t react with shock or sympathy when he glanced up, gaging the neutral expression the reaper managed to keep. There were cracks however, in how he was biting on his lip and how his one fist hidden from Komaeda’s view was tight to the point of breaking. Komaeda, Hinata desperately hoped, wouldn’t notice too much, as he waited for him to continue. Which he did.

“It was a plane crash, if you’re curious! It was really exciting at the time though I think I might have blacked out at some point. Actually no, I’m  _sure_ I blacked out. It was ridiculous too, the more I think about it, because the events were...something, if the news was reporting it correctly that day. I could only read the newspaper long after I’d been rescued, mind you. And it took me a while to do so.” Komaeda hummed, fingers clasping together, eyes briefly flickering towards the window where that tree standing outside blocked the sun, only allowing its light to shine past those obscuring leaves. “I didn’t have anyone save for them, but I lived on all the same, free to do whatever I chose. In the very least, I inherited an enormous fortune. I guess you could call it  _fortunate_?”

Hinata not joining in while he giggled at the lame joke silenced it a lot sooner, and Komaeda looked at him uneasily before looking back down. “Hm. Well, outside of that, really, not much else happened. I would say my life then was more like drifting than living. It should have been average and utterly inconsequential, but there’d be certain breaks in routine every now and then. One break after another usually.”

Breaks like  _what_ , Hinata really wondered, but unable to bring himself to ask for any clarification. Especially since Komaeda didn’t even allow a beat for that question to be asked in the first place. “But that’s  _strange_ , isn’t it?  _Ridiculous_. But I should consider it  ** _lucky_**. Luck’s a funny thing, isn’t it? It’s untouchable, absolute, and the only way you could possibly shield yourself from it is to simply just disappear. Stop  ** _existing_**. When I ended up here, everything got so boring that I thought I  _was_  disappearing and in many ways I was grateful but... It all felt so hopeless. But then one day when it was getting particularly hopeless, I looked out the window and... Well, you know what happened next, right?”

“...Yeah.” Hinata responded, pressing a hand to his forehead as he’s sure it throbbed. It almost felt dizzying, the more he went over Komaeda’s explanations and expositions, and then he ended up on the part where their paths intersected and he  _remembered_  that. He could recall it clearly since it wasn’t so long ago even though for whatever reason, it  _felt_ like it had been a while.

And that was...ridiculous. In many ways. But how could he have expected it back then? He’d been hoping for a job that’d be tedious but a relief compared to gruesome accidents. He’d been hoping he’d have another completed assignment under his belt—a success to somehow undo one of his many failures that Izuru covered for him.

Then those eyes—green but looking more gray in the light, more like clouds when they banded together and rumbled—wandered over, meeting his, and Hinata had frozen with the realization that this job would never be the relief he was hoping for. Those eyes meet his again, now, even as Hinata’s hand drifts down a bit to cover part of his gaze, and Komaeda blinks at him before smiling.

“So, well, that’s that! That’s really all there is! Boring, right?” That usual bird-like tilt of his head, usual laugh soft with his shoulders shaking a bit, and Hinata can’t help but notice how his clasped fingers tightened to where it must have hurt. “To be honest, this is really strange as well... Telling death how my life went... It almost sounds ironic. Or a bad joke. Is that why you asked?”

“No.” Somehow he had managed to be firm. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Hmm. Perhaps it’s...courtesy, then, for a grim reaper to ask about someone’s life before they die? One last person to hear the story before it ends for good? There’s almost a kind of poetry to that—it sounds nice!” Komaeda really looked so bright, Hinata dropped his gaze, flickering it to the tubes going from him to the machine.

“You still have a ways to go, actually.”

“Well, better sooner rather than later! Right?” Still so cheery. In a way, he’d consider it grating if there wasn’t a numbness in his head. Then that cheery dropped in favor of concern. “Hinata-kun, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Hinata wearily looked back up, forcing himself to smile however small it was at the worried frown on Komaeda’s face. Then he continued, “I didn’t think that story was boring. It was you, after all.”

“Huh?” Komaeda blinked, and then a blush dusted those cheeks, and Hinata expects him to brush it off, laugh it away as always—and he’s almost waiting for it, once he realized how stupid of a thing that was to say, it’s something that  _should_  be brushed off, something that pretty much  _should have been_  treated like a big dumb joke.

But, instead, Komaeda’s face is dyed a pleasant shade of pink as opposed to the usual sickly paleness, his hand pressing to his lips, and then he smiled, and that smile was enough to leave anyone— _whether they needed it or no_ —breathless. “Aah, thank you, Hinata-kun. You really are kind.”

Again with that word. This time more heartfelt, as if he really deserved it.

“You know, I’m actually glad you’re here.” Komaeda went on, sincere even as Hinata had to stop himself from screaming at hearing something so  _careless_. “After so long of going through life alone, it’s nice to spend day after day with someone who cares enough to ask about me, no matter how boring many of those days are. Even if it’s just work for you, I still feel that way... But that’s silly, isn’t it? And rather sad, no matter how you look at it.”

It _is_  silly. And sad. And it also  _hurt_  to the point where Hinata gripped at his chest despite all that. Komaeda, noticing, frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

No. Not at all. And in many ways, it irritated him. Like he really was doing all he could only to end up in yet another failure. Another disappointment. Another mess for Izuru to clean up, and for him to get scolded for always falling and having to get caught by someone better. Again. Like always.

... ** _Always_**?

“Huh?” Hinata wondered aloud, to his and Komaeda’s confusion.

“Hinata-kun?”

“No...” he trailed off, rubbing at his temple to soothe the sudden throbbing. He was starting to get aggravated. “Shouldn’t you get back to resting? I shouldn’t have woken you up and kept you this long in the first place. I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize, but...” Komaeda leaned in a bit, curiously searching him and when Hinata was seized with the urge to cover himself— _like he was **exposed**  to those eyes, those eyes that  **shouldn’t even be seeing him**  in the first place_... “You’re still acting rather worrying. In fact, I think you’re starting to look sick—can grim reapers  _get_  sick?”

 _Not in the way you’re thinking, but..._  The pain in his head flared, nearly making him flinch and Hinata got to his feet, nearly stumbling.  _I don’t understand why the hell am I...?_

 ** _...why am I always not good enough?_ **

No.  _Hold it_. This wasn’t the time for that. But he couldn’t stop thinking it, over and over, like a broken record, and if it were possible, he’s sure he’d drown in these thoughts. It’s almost like he can already feel them wrapping tight and merciless around his neck— ** _always someone_ better _never_ enough _always_ never  _always_** —and Hinata held his head, beginning to shake. He could barely hear himself keep babbling on, somehow that part of him remembering Komaeda, “P- _Please_  just  _rest_. It... It’s fine, I swear. I’m sorry. I’m just...”

 **_Just doing my best. Never being good enough. Never._ **

_It’s **familiar** , isn’t it? It’s **always**  been that way, hasn’t it?_

Doing his best. Never being good enough. He’d always been so  _weak_ —it’s no wonder he  _broke_. It hurt. It always hurt. He just wanted it to stop, somehow... He wanted it to stop, stop,  ** _stop_** —

 ** _Stop!_** _It hurts! I... I don’t want... **Please**...  **Somebody...**_

He wasn’t even aware of how he must have looked then—lurching forward and covering his face as he trembled and whined—the sounds ugly and pained because it still  ** _hurt_** and  _he just wanted it to_ —

_Please, please,_ **please** _..._

Just when Hinata has to stop himself from screaming, his eyes fly open and there’s...

There’s a plastic bottle of water being offered to him. When he looks up, Komaeda has the grimmest expression and he shakes his grip a bit in a clear gesture to insist he take the water. Hinata slowly takes it, and he doesn’t even feel its weight or texture, but there must have been that warmth from Komaeda’s fingers when they unintentionally brushed against one another. It was only partially full.

“This...” His throat does feel dry, but only because his mind is in a whirl still. Hinata can’t help but laugh, hard and rueful. “This isn’t going to help me.”

“Well, no, staring at it isn’t going to do any good.” As straight-forward and careless as always, that Komaeda. Komaeda, though he maintained such a serious air, and of course, he was still genuinely concerned. Perhaps he thought that he was sick—that he’d actually break down completely any moment now... “You’re supposed to drink. Just do it.”

 _Hah. I can’t even say no to a face like that._  His fingers are already unscrewing the bottle’s cap, and once it’s off, Hinata doesn’t wait even a second to down it like it was nothing. He gulps it all down, unable to choke, and once he’s done, he can only sigh. “It doesn’t taste like anything.”

“It’s water. Of course it doesn’t.” Komaeda does give him an odd look at that. “It’s flavorless.”

 _No, that’s wrong..._  But Hinata just cracked a smile instead. One that actually felt genuine, the words sincere. “Thanks, Komaeda.”

“I haven’t really done anything worth being thanked,” Komaeda quickly pointed out before falling back on his still very present worry. “Are you doing better now, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata reached up instinctively against his forehead, noting that it still hurt, but the pain was subsiding now, almost fading. He actually felt more relieved, and he just laughed. “Yeah. Seriously, thanks.”

Komaeda’s nose wrinkled, but he did nod in return. There was that slight blush again, and it really was pleasant to see coupled with a returning smile. “I’m...glad. I don’t know what really happened, but I’m glad. I should be glad, but... Sometimes I think...”

He paused for just a moment, but met Hinata’s gaze. “I think perhaps you might be too hard on yourself a lot of the time, Hinata-kun. Perhaps you expect  _too_  much. That’s dangerous, you know?”

He really had no idea.

“I can’t say I don’t understand, as resigned as I am, but it’s still something to keep in mind,” Komaeda went on, waving his hand about, “It’s worrying, really, especially since I think you’re fine as you are.”

He had no idea. He really had no idea at  _all_. Hinata pushed himself up off the bed, and when Komaeda curiously stared after him, at the grim reaper rigidly crossing his arms, Hinata’s voice came surprisingly stern, “You should rest now, Komaeda. I’m fine now—so we have to worry about you. _Rest_.”

“...if you say so...” Komaeda doesn’t fight him, thankfully, instead lying down and squirming a bit to get into a comfortable spot. Hinata glanced towards him, drifting close unintentionally, and then he noticed he was still holding an empty plastic water bottle.

“Hopefully someone will refill this,” he muttered, placing it gingerly back on the bedside table. “I’m sorry, Komaeda.”

Komaeda snorted, and then let out a heavy sigh. “That...really isn’t something to apologize for. Unless you feel like patronizing me.”

“That’s not...”

“I know.” He’s cut off, and then Komaeda smiles playfully up at him before his eyes shut and he yawns. Hinata can only stare as he drifts. It’s always so easy for Komaeda to drift, even now.

_“I think you’re fine as you are.”_

Hinata’s lips twisted.

_For someone so perceptive, you’re really careless. Saying something like that to someone who’s just waiting for you to die... I don’t understand you at all. It’s not as though we’re friends or anything, but... We’ve been pushing that, haven’t we?_

_...I **must**  be pushing it, at this rate._

* * *

That so much would happen right after Izuru left is laughable, almost like the universe was taunting him for it. Hinata would laugh at the irony, but really, he’s too tired. Despite that, grim reapers don’t need to sleep nor do they sleep at all, so he’s stuck staying awake as always at Komaeda’s bedside.

He was seated on the floor by the bed right now, hugging his knees close, and the only sound in this mostly silent hospital room was Komaeda’s breathing. Though if he listened hard enough, he might be able to hear animals outside, scuttling and fluttering as alert as ever.

Komaeda hadn’t been getting nightmares lately and, as he looked towards the new, full water bottle on his bedside table, Hinata hoped this would be another quiet night no matter how boring that was. The nurses, now that he thought about it, had been musing about Komaeda while the other slept as well—some of them were also surprised that he was lasting so long. Some picked up on Komaeda’s apparently improved mood over the days, and Hinata’s certainly embarrassed by that, in a way.

It’s still stupid to feel that way though. Komaeda was still alive. And he...wasn’t. Not anymore. Even when that changed, Komaeda would just be shuffled along forward while Hinata was stuck where he was. It wouldn’t make a difference.

If he had just  _stayed_  alive though, would have been possible for him to meet Komaeda all the same? Perhaps before the other got hospitalized? Or maybe he could have gotten into the hospital himself due to an accident or his own stupidity? The exact circumstances didn’t really matter though, as long as the two of them met.

As long as they were able to talk and befriend one another normally, that’d be enough.  _But_.

But being close would be just as difficult as it’d be easier. He certainly wouldn’t be able to spend the amount of time near Komaeda day after day minute by minute as a still living human as he was as an assigned grim reaper. But would that really be so bad as long as he  _was_  able to be near him  _enough_?

But would  _Komaeda_  be so willing to open up to him? And would things  _really_ fall into place so easily?

It’s an impossibility— _a pipe dream_ —and he’s wasting his time entertaining such a notion. But still, Hinata wondered. Being alive again was a sensation on its own he’d long forgotten—really  _needing_ to breathe and having a heart that was beating—and perhaps if he were alive, the way Komaeda affected him could be that much more significant.

Making him  _have_  to catch his breath,  _making his heart skip a beat_ —wouldn’t that be something? More reminders that he’d be  _alive_ , and now the reality hangs that much heavier on his shoulders.

**_It’s penance._ **

He presses his hand to his chest. Silent. Still, and would only rise in a pathetic imitation if he forced himself to breathe. This entire body of his was nothing but a mockery—though they called it more of a tool. A vessel, more like. For practicality as well as perhaps some pseudo- _comfort_.

“ _Mm_...” Komaeda sighs, and Hinata perks up, noticing the minor shifts in his body, how Komaeda breathed as he turned onto his side, facing in the direction where the two of them could be facing one another. Hinata’s tense, half-expecting another nightmare— _rare or not, they were still possibilities_ —and he calms down once he realizes that Komaeda shows no sign of even a slight disturbance.

There was really nothing notable at all... Aside from his hand tumbling over and causing his arm to hang over the edge of the bed. That and he was drooling.

Hinata choked out a soft laugh, reaching out thoughtlessly to gather that dangling hand in his own so he could set it back up...

Only to halt when that warmth made him still, and took him completely off-guard.

His grip instinctively tightens around it, his other hand wrapping around those warm fingers and palm and giving them a squeeze. Komaeda makes a sharp sound, causing Hinata’s gaze to nearly snap up to him, wide-eyed and almost terrified, only for him to settle again when he realized that it was more likely a snore, considering he still slept on without a care.

Hinata pulled back one of his hands, returning Komaeda’s to its proper spot, arm tucked in close to him on the bed. That should have been the end of it, except Komaeda drew his hands closer, tugging free from Hinata’s grip and shivered just the slightest bit. Hinata blinked at the sight, and before he could question it, he was tugging the blanket so that it’d cover more of Komaeda’s shoulder.

And before he could stop himself, once he pulled those sheets up, his fingers skid over that warm shoulder, until the tips brushed up against a pale, thin— _very much like its owner_ —neck. Which shifted with each soft intake of air, and when Hinata’s eyes screwed shut and his fingers pressed into the tender skin...

He could feel Komaeda’s pulse, fluttering under his fingertips and beating back against them, almost like it wanted them  _off_.

And Komaeda jerked, Hinata yanking his hand away and nearly scrambling back before managing to stand, wide eyes staring at Komaeda, who pushed himself up, dreary-eyed and dazed before he let out a yawn.

“Komaeda, are you...” Hinata cut himself short when the other groaned, shutting his eyes for a bit before rubbing at them with his hands. When they dropped from his face, he looked past Hinata to the window.

“It’s raining.”

“Huh?” The more he paid attention, the more he realized that there was incessant tapping, steadily growing louder and louder as he turned to the window as well. It was still dark, but Hinata could see the tree’s leaves shifting and the droplets catching on the glass, sliding down in multitudes. Barely. It was unlikely Komaeda could see half as much save for the shape of the tree rustling.

“You know,” Komaeda starts anyway, voice still dull with drowsiness. “I used to really like watching the rain. I hated being in it, but watching it was almost soothing. After it stopped, the air would smell fresh and the sky always looked so pretty, too... I wonder...”

He yawned again, continuing in a softer, cracking voice, “I wonder when that changed...”

Hinata looked to him, taking in how he grumbled, but also those eyes, lowered and downcast. “Komaeda,” he began carefully. “You should go back to sleep.”

“I’d like to, but,” Those eyes briefly glanced back at his before averting. “It’s too loud. I’ve never been able to sleep while it’s raining. Sorry, Hinata-kun.”

 _You don’t need to apologize for something like that._  “Just lie down.”

Despite grumbling, Komaeda did obey, yawning loudly and inelegantly this time before drearily muttering, “Hinata-kun... Your hands were really cold, too.”

Hinata flinched at that, saying nothing as the other went on, “I didn’t mind too much—if you’re going to do something like that, then it’s fine... But at least let me know first or something... Or at least not when it’s already raining outside.”

_Hah... What... What the hell..._

“Is death  _supposed_  to be cold?” Komaeda asked, blinking up those wide, hazy eyes up at him in inquiry and curiosity. “ _Is_  it cold when you die?”

 _...Maybe he’s just gotten especially careless..._  “It’s not...really anything. Please, Komaeda, at least shut your eyes and try to go back to sleep.”

The tapping of the rain was almost getting maddening though and he wondered if it was really possible despite still hoping for it. Then Komaeda hummed, “Maybe you could tell me a story?”

Before Hinata could choke on whatever response, there was a quick, light laugh. “Just kidding. I’ll...try, Hinata-kun. I, ah, I’m not likely to have much luck though. I never really have before.”

“ _Really_?”

His agreement was soft, a bit high-pitched and mid-sigh, but then Hinata caught Komaeda’s thin fingers brushing against his neck like there was an itch. Hinata wondered and then looked down, scolding himself for it.

“I-If you really  _need_ a story or something...” he muttered, tense and not at all helped by the loudening swoosh outside and the drizzle becoming more of a downpour. It certainly bothered him, making Komaeda’s situation seem a lot more sympathetic. “I-I’ve never done something like that, so it’s bound to be stupid,  _but if you_ —”

“Hinata-kun, when I said I was joking about that, I  _meant_  it.” Komaeda cut him off, swift and to the point, almost sounding irritated. Irritation, which pricked at Hinata like needles, the words pulling the barbs in deeper as they followed. “Please don’t embarrass yourself like this.”

Komaeda was turned away from him, and Hinata felt that ache in his chest all over again, as if the situation really felt like mocking him all the more. He couldn’t blame Komaeda though,  _tired and careless Komaeda who didn’t **understand** either way_, but this wasn’t any less cruel.

**_But it’ll end once he dies, won’t it?_ **

...Yes, that’s right. Izuru certainly didn’t have to remind him—he knew. At the same time, the more he thought about this upcoming inevitability— _the reason why he was here in the first place_ —he felt all the more uneasy.

That wasn’t  _normal_ , was it? Then again, talking to Komaeda, reading all those stories with him, Komaeda smiling at him, everything they’ve been doing  _together_ —none of  _that_  was normal either.

 _Perhaps this whole ordeal is just me **embarrassing**  myself_. He thought bitterly.  ** _That’s_** _normal, isn’t it? Because all I can ever do is **disappoint** —_

Thunder rumbled, and he was vaguely aware of his fists clenching tight against his sides—it’d hurt if he was still human. Which he still very much wasn’t. Not anymore.

“Aah,” Komaeda sighs aloud, groaning. “ _That_  certainly isn’t going to help.”

 _...No._   Hinata agreed glumly, though he knew Komaeda wasn’t referring to that. Thinking about any of this won’t do any good.  _It’s all useless. Useless to think about... Useless to **worry**  about. It doesn’t matter right now._

**_But... Still... I..._ **

_I **hate** being like this._

“Hinata-kun?” Hinata perked up, miserable and resigned, and Komaeda was looking at him again—though squinting since it was still hard to see. It was unlikely he’d be able to make out his expression...but he was thankful that he was _trying_  at least, as pathetic as it was. “Do you like the rain?”

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._  “I don’t care for it, no. I don’t think I ever had.” The response was cold but honest, though Hinata wondered over what Komaeda had said earlier about the rain, and he listened more closely to those sounds. “But...it’s necessary, isn’t it?”

“I never said it wasn’t.” Komaeda sniffled against his sheets. Then he sneezed, shivering. Hinata’s stare darkened before he faltered with a deepening frown when Komaeda continued, “It is necessary for life to thrive. Not enough rain can result in everything dying out...but too much rain drowns everything. It’s a delicate balance, and sometimes I worry if the rain’s too careless. But nature itself behaves however it chooses. Luck’s the same way. I can’t be angry with either. But, that said...”

“Komaeda,” Hinata starts just as Komaeda trails off, and it’s painfully obvious he’s not too enthusiastic in saying anymore. Komaeda may have thought he said too much already, felt  _guilty_  over it, and Hinata would rather  _he_  not feel bad about anything. “You’re tired, aren’t you? You don’t have to continue.”

_I’m tired, too._

Komaeda snuffled in response, shuffling a bit until he was on his back, and that sullen expression said enough.

Hinata drew close, smile sad, and when Komaeda saw that, he flinched despite quickly returning it. Calm, soft, and warm. As always. It’s distressing as it is comforting, and the brewing chaos only halts when Komaeda’s hand raises, when it’s offered to him, and Komaeda quietly admits, with that childlike intrigue and innocence, while to Hinata it’s more of a  _dirty secret_ , that he’s curious.

Hinata can only be irritated with himself though, as his hands immediately albeit slowly reach for Komaeda’s, wrapping around it with a careful squeeze. It’s still so warm that Hinata wants to shut his eyes tight.

Komaeda gasps a bit, but doesn’t pull away. “It really is cold, Hinata-kun.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else to say to that.

“It’s fine! T-This... This is actually really fine... It’s surreal to have something like this happen, I think... Should I call myself lucky for it? H- _Haa_... Ha _ha_...” He shivers a bit with his laughter, turning the slightest bit into his pillow with his quakes. Hinata, instead of letting go like he really should have, stroked those thin fingers and the cushion of his palm. It was all softer than it was warm. When he glances, he sees that Komaeda’s face is a bit flushed, and it’s more like he’s hiding his face because he’s embarrassed. But then he giggles, the sound quivery like his form. “My hand being held by a grim reaper... I-It’s really  _something_...”

“Are you sure this is alright?” Hinata asked warily, trying not to wince as he lowered himself to his knees, still keeping Komaeda’s hand in a delicate hold. “If something like this is overwhelming...”

“It’s not really! Well, maybe the idea is the more I think about it, but that’s not really your fault, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda stills a bit, smiles at him, and his worries wane just a little bit. It’s enough. “Actually it’s...soothing...” A rumble again outside, and Komaeda giggles again. “Compared to  _that_ , I’m certainly more partial to  _this_.”

Hinata hummed, tuning the rain out before his head bowed so that that warm hand pressed against his forehead. He felt a slight tremor—likely from Komaeda—but before he could apologize, he felt the brush of Komaeda’s thumb over his brow in a quick yet comforting stroke. When he did manage to glance, Komaeda’s smile was wide, brightening in return and Hinata finally just shut his eyes.

“This is actually rather nice,” Komaeda says softly, to which Hinata doesn’t respond. Just stays there, holding his hand close, for he’s not sure how long. Komaeda doesn’t say anything else.

After what didn’t feel like a long while, his eyes open to Komaeda returned to sleeping and drooling again, to his instinctive amusement. The rain had also stopped as well.

* * *

He wished he could say that everything fell back into that calm lull afterwards, but even though Komaeda’s life went on as monotonously as before, even with the nurses still fulfilling Komaeda’s requests for more books out of the library every now and then, it was like there was something...heavier in the atmosphere lately.

“You haven’t touched your food, Komaeda.”

“I haven’t?” Komaeda still seemed to be in a daze, looking down drearily at his untouched food. “Oh, I haven’t. I’m sorry, Hinata-kun, I’ve just been out of it.”

“You should eat, Komaeda.”

“I...don’t have an appetite right now, honestly.” The admittance was quiet, and Hinata’s frown deepened as Komaeda meekly averted his gaze. “A _ah_... It might be the new medication but I don’t really know. Does not eating once really make a difference?”

“You’ve never had much of an appetite.” Hinata stated lowly before pleading, “It won’t hurt either. You shouldn’t skip any meals.”

“...Hm.” But to his relief, Komaeda pulled open a container of yogurt, dipping the spoon in and shoving it into his mouth. His expression twisted distastefully, but he forced himself to swallow all the same. That expression soured as he grimaced. “I might be sicker than usual.”

Hinata flinched, but forced himself to respond calmly, as stiff as his voice was. “You should talk to the nurses about that.”

“I should. But, honestly, Hinata-kun, is there really a point to that?” he asked lightly, the corners of his lips pulling upwards even though what happened was more of a sad imitation of a smile than his usual grin. It hurt to see it, hurt more that Komaeda laughed—though it was more of a flurry of wheezes and coughs. “How... How much longer is it going to  _be_? It’s already been a while.”

When Hinata was unable to answer, the giggling resumed, shakier before Komaeda turned to him with that grin. It still wasn’t his grin though, it was...darker. More twisted. “The day I die is coming up  _soon_ , isn’t it? That I’ve even survived this long was lucky—everyone’s surprised by it, perhaps they’re  _bothered_  as well. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were.”

Hinata would have asked—about this ‘everyone’ and about them being ‘bothered’ but the more he looked around skittishly over Komaeda’s hospital room, at those machines and tubes, and Komaeda himself, still so wan still so  _scrawny_ —he could have figured it out on his own. At the same time, Komaeda continued, “They’re just waiting at this point, and they’re probably getting impatient. Even  _you_ , Hinata-kun.”

He could deny it, he wanted to, but lying to any extent would be taken poorly, especially when Komaeda could already  _see right through_   _him_. But there had to be something he  _could_  say. “Komaeda...”

“It must be annoying, right? Having to _wait_  for someone to die—it has to be irritating and exhausting,” he insisted, voice raising and Hinata flinched back like he’d been pushed. Komaeda’s hands fist in those sheets. “I didn’t ask to live this long, and I’m really sorry that this pathetic substandard body of mine doesn’t know when to  _give up_ , believe me I am. I’m impatient of waiting too, irritated— ** _exhausted_** —”

“ _Stop_!” The shout took them both by surprise, Komaeda’s mouth shutting immediately and Hinata stumbling a bit when he realized that was his voice talking, “Don’t—don’t think that way. You’re just assuming—you don’t know what others really think—”

Komaeda’s eyes narrowed then, and Hinata stopped, flustered and knowing he must be over his head—that expression on Komaeda’s face is one he miserably recognizes. Izuru would often give him that same look, but Komaeda also almost looked  _pitying_.

“I may make a lot of offhand comments without meaning to be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice things, Hinata-kun. And even if they weren’t impatient, wouldn’t any other way be so much worse?” The question was quiet, almost pleading, and Komaeda’s gaze flickered down, to his skeletal and sickly hands. “Wishful thinking that I might end up surviving—it’s just a cruel taunt at this point, especially since  _you’re_  here, right? Anyone who dares to hope is just going to be disappointed, and really, it _is_  tiring having to wait for something you can’t fully control, can only really influence. You can do your best and there’s  _still_  no guarantee, it must be  _frustrating_... And for all your efforts to just  _fail_...”

Hinata snapped before he could continue. “Komaeda,  _I said stop_! What do  _you_  know anyway?! You’re the one that’s only  _barely_  trying!”

Komaeda doesn’t answer, mouth sealed firmly shut once he yelled again, but his wide-eyed gaze was blank, and by the end, Komaeda wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Like he was ashamed.

Or disgusted.

Or tired.

Hinata was tired as well, breathing heavily for what little good it would do, though his gaze remained hard and that was probably why Komaeda didn’t interject when it seemed like he wasn’t going to continue. Part of him felt bad for yelling, but he was just too  _tired_  to apologize. He was sick of it, and apologizing to _Komaeda_  would just be the icing on the cake.

What he mostly felt was pity for the both of them. And he’s sure that  _both_ of them hated that: being pitied. Pathetic.

“Hey, Komaeda, can we just not talk about this?” He drew close, softening his voice, lowering himself just a bit as he was by the other’s side. Komaeda still wouldn’t look at him, but Hinata smiled anyway, small and sad like it was the only thing close to calming he was capable of. “Isn’t it painful to think about anyway?”

He reached out to place his hand on Komaeda’s shoulder, wavering for a bit just before he settled on just touching him lightly, the pads of his fingers just barely brushing against the surface. That warmth still licked at his fingers, and Komaeda didn’t react outwardly for a while, so he eventually pulled away, his smile fading.

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said suddenly, turning to him once he did, meeting his gaze worriedly, and questioning quietly, “Why would  _you_  think that way?”

“Why...wouldn’t I?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to think that question over, and Komaeda’s expression shifted from pained to more dismay. Hinata, repressing a wince, kept his tone steady. “Are you saying there’s a certain way I should think? And what would  _you_  know about that?”

That cold question again, somehow seeming harsher even when he kept his voice low. Komaeda’s head ducked apologetically, softly murmuring, “Nothing really, I suppose. I hadn’t intended to imply otherwise but I still find you and your actions...rather strange. Admittedly, this entire situation is strange, but... Something feels just distinctly  _off_  when it comes to you.”

“I’m a grim reaper, Komaeda.”

“I haven’t  _forgotten_ , Hinata-kun.” Komaeda shot back just as bluntly, with a bit of offense in his tone on top of it. “Honestly, I suspect that’s part of the problem. Hinata-kun, you don’t act like what I’d  _expect_ out of a grim reaper. Not at all.”

“And what would you expect? A cloak after all? A  _scythe_? If you just want  _that_ , then—”

“It’s not your  _appearance_  that’s the problem! But the scythe is unnecessary—that cowlick on your head looks pointy enough.” Hinata snorted, unimpressed, but Komaeda did smile a bit desperately. It faded soon after though when the mood refused to lighten, and he resumed, “It’s your attitude, I think, that may be the problem.”

He definitely didn’t want to hear this from  _Komaeda_ , of all people, he knew _already_. He should have shut this conversation immediately right then and there, but Komaeda didn’t give him the chance, as ‘cheerily’ as always.

“It’s one thing to talk to pass the time because you’re bored—I can understand that, and I could use that to justify a lot of things, too. I  _tried_  to, in fact. But it’s gotten to the point where I can’t just brush it off as simply ‘boredom’ anymore—it’s gotten to be too  _much_.” His voice tightened in places but never rose, but Hinata flinched with each bite he picked up in his tone before he came to the cold realization that this was that same unnerving attitude Komaeda had back when Izuru had visited. Apparently he hadn’t imagined that, then. Komaeda giggled this time, high-pitched and breathy and like frost in the already cold air. “I don’t understand it—you just act so  _bizarrely_! Talking is one thing, but you’re just too  _considerate_. I thought that was just a quirk, but perhaps it goes deeper than that? Because, Hinata-kun, no matter how I look at it—I can’t help but think...”

He trailed off, averting his gaze and looking uneasy suddenly before he smiled. That smile retained his unease though, and Hinata’s not sure whether to be relieved or worried that Komaeda’s unsettling behavior had been dropped in favor of his own discomfort.

“That, perhaps,” Quiet, almost unassuming, and then out of nowhere that soft tone of voice went cold again—almost like something that immediate froze in the icy air, “Perhaps you  _care_  for me. Perhaps you’ve gotten to the point where you don’t  _want_  me to die.”

**_That’s because I don’t._ **

And Hinata almost wants to laugh because it’s not as though this revelation that he didn’t want Komaeda to die— _not soon, **not ever**_ —was ever really a  _surprise_. He didn’t have to think too hard on  _why_. In reality, Hinata never wanted  _any_  of his assignments to die. Not a single one.

He’s too soft. He’s always cared too much. And he knew from the beginning, even as he denied that it was anything like  _that_ , that with Komaeda— _seeing and **speaking**  to him_—there’s no way those weaknesses of his would get that much worse. And yet he denied Izuru’s help and forced himself through this situation anyway... Because he’d rather hurt himself than be a failure again.

Izuru must have known, hence his warnings and reminders of their ‘duty’, but he also must have been aware of how fruitless those would be to Hinata, who could only fail miserably in trying to distance himself from others, in trying to be like Izuru when he wasn’t and never would be. But Izuru tried anyway, he always did, and Hinata always appreciated that.

But it didn’t make this behavior any  _better_ —and all the same, it still amounted to just another disappointment to everyone, not just Izuru. What was the point of a grim reaper that hated death?

 _It’s penance._ He knows that.  _It’s just their ‘duty’._

But no matter what he does, he can’t just fall back into cold resignation over these facts— _he’s **not**  Izuru_, who could behave neutrally so easily, even though Hinata always wondered if he had regrets of his own.

But he could never ask about that. He’s not like Komaeda— _careless, **uncomprehending**_ —who was going to die and God, no,  _no_  he didn’t want  _that_ at  ** _all_**.

But, to Komaeda, who was still waited apprehensively for his answer until Hinata had taken too long; he just commented, albeit carefully, “Hinata-kun, you should be the one that’s the  _most_  impatient for my death, right? My surviving this long—isn’t all it’s doing at this point is just wasting  _everyone’s_  time?”

“Do you really think that?” he asked quietly though Komaeda still heard, and he nodded without hesitation, giving a smile like it’s obvious. And Hinata feels like he’s going to be sick.

 ** _What a mess._**  This entire situation just spiraled into a cruel  _mess_. It’s  _sad_ , and he feels  _sick_. Like it’s just a cruel, cruel joke his existence has been leading up to. He still laughs, even though he has to force it.

“Komaeda, I don’t understand how you think either.”

“You should,” Komaeda replied simply, not missing a beat. “Out of everyone, you  _should_  understand.”

“Should I?” Hinata returned, low and through gritted teeth. Undoubtedly irritated in a way that has the other falter. “And what  _would_  you know about that?”

“...Nothing really, I suppose.” The response was the same as before but tenser and quieter, almost mirroring the harsh question except weaker. Komaeda sniffled, folding his arms tightly against himself. “I’m sorry, Hinata-kun—it seems I’ve gotten especially impudent today.”

Hinata doesn’t vocally respond at first and instead nods before he insists, sternly, “Just finish your food.”

Komaeda’s eyes narrowed, but he doesn’t fight it this time, instead relenting and giving a stiff nod. There’s still tension in the air, but at least Komaeda does manage to finish his meal, sluggish pace aside, even when it looks like he’d rather glare at it than shovel it into his mouth and chew until it turned to mush he had to swallow.

But if the food itself sickened him, Komaeda gave no indication. He just finished it dutifully and reluctantly. Hinata just watched.

As he usually did.

* * *

Things remain tense between them, but Komaeda admirably does still read, still converse when he says something however brief and vague his response may be. Hinata responds as well, as casually as he can manage, and in the very least, he still receives a small smile from Komaeda now and then if he says something that the other found humorous, intentional or no. Hinata smiles back, though it’s stiff, a miserable attempt that Komaeda falters at. And things get awkward all over again.

 _What a mess._  Hinata runs his fingers through his hair as the nurses replace Komaeda’s needles, perform check-ups on his state, and then, sometimes, squeeze his shoulder before leaving once determining that he was stable. Stable enough, at least.

Komaeda sighed softly enough that it was almost lost in the whirl of machinery, and he settled back, pulling his covers up to his neck with a bleary stare at the ceiling. Hinata perked up, and hesitated.

“Hey, Komaeda... Are you...” He glanced towards the unfinished book on the shelf, but Komaeda remained indifferent to the subtle gesture and instead closed his eyes. Hinata inhaled, voice a bit softer, “Komaeda...”

“Hinata-kun, am I going to die today?”

He nearly flinched at the question, but answered all the same, suppressing any shake in his voice. “N...No. Not from what I can tell. That and you’re too...stable anyway.”

“What about tomorrow?” Komaeda asked blithely, without missing a beat. Hinata blinked a bit, and answered all the same.

“No, Komaeda. I don’t think so. It’s possible but it’s unlikely.”

“A chance is a chance. I once heard that the chance of dying in a plane crash is the same as being struck by lightning seven times. As long as chances exist, then the possibility can’t be ignored.” Komaeda’s eyes flickered open, the stare focused as if on something was there that couldn’t be seen. Something he’d like to pierce into despite the impossibility of it. “That’s how things are... Likelihoods are only an especially weak method of comfort, and not  _guarantees_.”

“You’re not going to die so soon.” Hinata stated, voice tight. “I’m sure of it.”

“If you’re sure of it, Hinata-kun, then...” Those piercing eyes flickered towards him. “Do you mind leaving this room for a while? Your presence is starting to become suffocating.”

“I’d...rather now leave until my job’s completed, Komaeda.” He responded, though it wasn’t as strongly-voiced as he would have liked. “Or until I’m no longer needed.”

Komaeda’s expression soured, but his glare was directed back at that ceiling. “Ignoring what could be the last request of someone dying—that’s cold, even for a grim reaper, and especially for you, Hinata-kun.”

“Komaeda, that’s not...” he trailed off, grimacing. “I... I don’t mean to come off like that and you know it.”

“Hinata-kun,” Those eyes closed. “I want you to leave. And by  _all_  accounts, that is one of my last desires. Now, you aren’t obligated to fulfill it, of course, but I don’t feel the need to  _sugarcoat_  the situation for you—”

 _You’re just being unfair at this point._ Hinata’s frown deepened, his head dropping.  _But this entire **situation** is unfair. It’s a complete mess—_

“Hinata-kun, are you listening?”

He wasn’t, really. Not at this point. “Komaeda, I’ll see you later.”

“See—?”

And with that, Hinata sank through the floor, out before Komaeda could continue.

* * *

“Hajime...”

“I know what you’re thinking.” The second he said his name like that, Hinata knew, and he couldn’t help but start, babbling before the other could so much as continue with a scold as usual, a reminder like before, followed by another offer of assistance. “I know what you’re going to say and—I... I’m sorry, Izuru. I’m... I’m sorry.”

“You’re mistaken, Hajime,” Izuru replies, direct as always even as Hinata winces. “You asked for me to be here, did you not? I won’t tell you what you already know, not when that surely isn’t why you requested my presence. That wouldn’t help you either way.”

Hinata swallowed, dropping his gaze in shame, fists clinching before he slouched and pressed his back against the trunk of the tree. He noticed, briefly, Izuru’s eyes flickering up to Komaeda’s window, and bit the inside of his lips before he could said anything.

He’s right. Izuru’s always right. And he must know, as well. He always knows. So... _maybe..?_

“That said,” Izuru suddenly starts, glancing back at him. “I do wonder why we are outside with your assignment out of view.”

“Komaeda’s upset with me.” Hinata’s response is immediate, through his teeth and he’s trying not to scowl. “He asked, seeing as I told him he won’t be dead by today or tomorrow. It’s just for a little while anyway—I’ll return sooner than he probably wants.”

“How considerate of you,” the other muses, and Hinata swallows. “But I don’t believe that’s all there is to it. Is there something you wanted to discuss without the possibility of Komaeda Nagito overhearing?”

A rueful smile broke across Hinata’s lips, giving him his answer. Not that Izuru needed confirmation—he always knows, after all. Hinata laughs all the same, shaky and unsure as he digs at the ground with his foot, arms folding tightly against his chest. “If Komaeda hears this, he’ll most likely get agitated with me even more. I... I don’t want to give him false hope, either.”

“False hope?” Izuru repeated dully, and retained a neutral expression—except Hinata noticed, however quick the movement was, his eyes narrowing sharply and his posture stiffening for just a fraction of a second, and he held his tongue as Izuru asked, in a voice one notch harder than usual. “Surely you aren’t  _implying_...?”

Hinata almost faltered— _“Never mind”_ weighed heavily on his tongue and his lips almost parted to form the words—but then, seeing Izuru looking at him so hard for once, he thinks once again of Komaeda’s wide, inquisitive stare, and in his mind’s eye, that image of the white-haired youth smiles _,_  bright and cheery in spite of all the reasons he has to be withered and bleak, and instead he says, “Komaeda Nagito’s death seems to be almost completely ensured. His aura is almost completely faded, and there’s little to reason to believe that the hospital can do much if anything else for him. But... What I really want to know is... Is it truly  _impossible_  to save his life?”

Izuru doesn’t say anything—his expression remains still, though is his stare perhaps getting harsher? Hinata can’t really tell as he continues desperately, “As long as Komaeda’s still responsive and breathing—can’t his death be prevented?  As long as the doctors don’t give up on him and still do all that they can, can’t something be done so that he lives and is able to leave? I...”

_I’m sorry, Izuru, but..._

“I don’t want Komaeda to die.” Out loud, that confession is all the more damning, all the heavier to the point where Hinata feels like he might as well sink. But he can’t just stop here, and each following word falls faster and faster from his lips, “I don’t want to _watch_ him die anymore—if there’s anything I can do to help him then I-I’ll do it. B-But that might not be enough— _I’m never enough_ —which is why I wanted to ask you, Izuru, please...”

“It is forbidden for grim reapers to interfere in a human’s life or death. What you are suggesting, Hinata Hajime, is a  _severe_  transgression.” The reminder is colder than usual, weightier than that confession, and Hinata flinches once he realizes how unkinder Izuru has turned with that response. It was almost like he was being glared at and Hinata’s almost bitterly amused that  _this_  is the moment that Izuru loses his patience for him.

He should be cowering too, under such a serious stare, but Hinata just admits, softly, “I know that, Izuru.” Then, quieter despite his voice growing tighter, “You didn’t answer my question.”

Izuru remains silent, though his expression may have darkened. Despite that, Hinata asks again, desperation seeping into his tone, “Izuru, please, if there’s anything that can be done for Komaeda, I—”

“Is this  _really_  for Komaeda Nagito, Hajime?” The question cut him off, unbidden and harsh enough to still him instantly. Hinata blinked, flinching back a bit, and Izuru asks, “Are you really asking this to help  _him_  or for your  _own_  sake?”

The sudden image of Komaeda appeared again, but with that cold expression, one that twists and distorts into something unsettlingly wrong—and that deceptively bright tone with the memory,  _“I never thought that I’d be so pathetic that even the spirit that’s waiting for me to die instead spends his time **pitying**  me.”_

Hinata can’t speak, lips pressing tightly together and his gaze dropping to the ground, unable to keep up with Izuru’s piercing red stare. His fingers dug into his arms to the point where there should have been pain biting into his skin— _something to distract him from the clench in his chest, the frayed stinging edges around a hollow core_ —but of course. No. Such a thing was impossible.

**_Impossible..._ **

Eventually, somehow, he manages, “I don’t...”

But then he stops there, unable to continue and only trembling. His head’s starting to hurt again, and he presses a hand to his forehead while keeping an arm tightly wrapped around his still aching chest. He might break into a cold sweat like this if such a thing were possible—he might just break  _entirely_ , under Izuru’s intent stare. Izuru’s still watching— _so calm and so **careful** , he bets_—and that is  _just_...

“Izuru,” he begins, so quiet he doesn’t hear himself and isn’t even sure if he’s really saying it. But when his gaze flickers back up, Izuru does perk, displaying attention.  He still has that look of firm disapproval—but he’s still listening. “Please. Is there something that can be done or  _not_?”

Hinata’s already steeled himself for another scolding—one that’ll be the sharpest, the harshest, and shatter these pleas once and for all—it’s hopeless, asking Izuru. Doing so a multitude of times. But until he receives a straight-forward answer, he can’t just...

“Hajime...” His tone was the same as before—no change whatsoever. Hinata still waits, all the same, even as that pain gets worse and worse to the point he has to strain to hear. “I have no intention of relaying such information.”

 ** _...Ah._**  And  _why_ , exactly, could he have expected  _anything_  different? He could have gleaned as much from those previous statements—he should have, but somehow, he had to force this situation to the point where he’d hear this loud and clear and it...

It’s strange. Izuru continues when he could have left it at that, and his tone then seems like one far removed from his previous—so much so that this statement feels like a complete anomaly in this discussion. “I have no intention of allowing you to step out of line in determining Komaeda Nagito’s fate, either. I won’t allow you to compromise your existence committing such an act, Hajime.”

Hinata stares at him, this behavior of Izuru really striking him as strange,  _strange_ ,  ** _strange_** —and he feels like he should appreciate it on some level, at least, but mostly he feels like he’s stuck in some conflicted, complicated whirl of chaos and commotion. Like there’s buzzing, getting louder than the stinging pain, and he feels sick,  _sick_ ,  ** _sick_** —

_...Komaeda._

Is there really nothing he can do about Komaeda? Is Izuru really not going to help him? He can’t blame Izuru— _the ideal grim reaper who knows **best** , knows  **everything**_ —but at the same time he’s absolutely sure he’s shaking with anger that Izuru is just so _easily_  resigned to this disturbing, _distressing_  sentence of constant, constant death that he  _hated_ —

**_You’re too soft. You care too much. You’ll never be_ enough _—_**

**Enough** _. **Stop**. _ **Komaeda** _. I have to get back to **Komaeda**._

“Komaeda...” The name slipped out, and Hinata raked his fingers through his hair as he tried to steady himself. He kept muttering, almost blankly, “I have to get back... To Komaeda. I can’t leave him alone for too long, he’s—”

Izuru finishes for him, final. “He’s your assignment, Hajime.”

Hinata stilled, mind halting at a complete, desolate stop. The pain is gone, but replaced with this encompassing, overwhelming emptiness instead. It’s nothing but especially, especially cold.

“Hajime,” Izuru tells him, coolly and collectedly but also sternly, “You should return to your work. It won’t be much longer.”

_No... It won’t._

It’s still cold. But all the same Hinata drifted back up, not looking back even as he felt Izuru’s stare still on his back. He’s not sure if he really cared that moment but—he had to get back to Komaeda. Komaeda, his...

His assignment.

* * *

His assignment was  _writhing_. At first the sight had Hinata froze—vacuously taking in the sight of Komaeda thrashing, not even casting him a glance or anything, and then as he stares, the nurses rush over to him and hold him down, chattering at one another in a convoluted blur as Hinata noticed other things.

Like how the squirming was more like  _convulsing_ —how there was a bottle skidded across the floor, rolling almost up against Hinata’s feet, the trail of water to it and the stains on Komaeda’s sheet where it clearly spilled...  _Did this happen when he was drinking?_

That yelling grew louder—the efforts to calm Komaeda down grew rougher the longer he watched. There was nothing he could do—nothing at  _all_ could be done for Komaeda Nagito.

“K-Komaeda...” Hinata stammered out, even as his voice was weak and wavering under the sounds made by the nurses and doctors scurrying and shouting. Komaeda was still trembling as he was held down, eyes blank, rolled upwards and unresponsive, and up until the moment he was settled down, Hinata remained frozen, holding the breath he knew he didn’t need.

He didn’t budge until he had to follow those doctors and nurses as they moved to place Komaeda in a different room. Under what would be more extensive care, Hinata was painfully sure.

It wouldn’t be much longer. Not...at all.

* * *

Komaeda slept, breathing accompanied by the steady, consistent beeping of the monitor, and when not watching his chest rise with it all, his eyes ended up tracing the multitude of tubes going from his arms, the ones helping him breathe—and he was so quiet, muffled by the whirls and beeps of all the machines. Hinata could almost hear the ticking of a clock as well, loud and looming, and he swallowed.

He’s not sure how much longer it took for Komaeda’s eyes to flutter open, but he did know that once they did—once those long, pale white lashes twitched just the slightest bit and rose over cloudy-green eyes, staring blearily at the dull ceiling above, Hinata may have moved the quickest possible for him to be by Komaeda’s bedside.

“Komaeda...” He starts and then stops, the name coming through without any sort of plan and he has to keep himself from shaking as Komaeda’s glazed gray-greens drift over to the grim reaper, looming over his bedside. Komaeda blinks once, as if there was a delay in registering his presence, and Hinata said his name again, almost as though he were pleading, “Komaeda?”

“Hi... _na_ ta- _kun_.” Those last few syllables jumbled together, and Komaeda blankly looked back up past him. “Ah, welcome back... How was—?”

“Don’t strain yourself if you don’t have to.” Hinata cut him off sharply, and Komaeda shut his mouth. He felt a twinge of guilt from the motion, even as Komaeda’s look and expression didn’t really change, and Hinata wondered how it was family and friends managed to compose themselves before visiting after something like this happened to their loved one. Then, he wondered, feeling a bit colder, how Komaeda must have felt that it was Hinata here by his side when he woke, not some friend or family member.

Then he remembered one of their earliest conversations.

_“I’m so use to waking up alone...”_

And then there was...

_“Aren’t ‘support’ and ‘stability’ from other humans essential to overall living?”_

_“I suppose that’s why I’m in here then, if that’s truly the case, Hinata-kun.”_

He felt more guilt for that, however belated it must have been by now, and Hinata’s eyes shut. If he apologized now, he wondered if Komaeda might actually end up insulted by how long it took—or that it even happened in the first place. Komaeda might still be irritated with him, for all he knows, no matter how off-track that seizure put him for the time being.

“Komaeda... How do you feel right now?” The least he could do right now is ask this, no matter how heavy that weight feels in his throat.

“Hm. How do I look?” Answering with a question. Somehow he’s bitterly unsurprised, sweeping over him in response but not saying anything aloud. The look on his face must be enough, given how Komaeda smiles a bit. “Hinata-kun, I... I’m glad you’re here.”

Hinata would have smiled back in spite of it—had he not remembered what else that could mean, because somehow he’d forgotten that there were other implications to that innocuous statement that put it under a darker, more unsettling light. Especially in _this_  situation, where Komaeda just stopped with that rather than clarifying so that it couldn’t be taken in  _that_  way.

...It could just be that carelessness of his. But Hinata really wondered. Especially with how calm Komaeda was, despite his condition, how he folded his hands over his chest, and how he vacantly smiled ahead. Like he was patiently waiting. His assignment.

“Komaeda,” he says, soft enough that it’s a surprise anyone hears it—much less Komaeda who perks up, staring at him with those wide, curious doe eyes he was so prone to. Hinata tightens his fists, but continues, still soft and apologetic. “It’s a shame we won’t get to read together more. I actually appreciated those anthologies.”

“It  _is_  a shame—there were some series that I never got to finish... I would have liked to know how they ended.” Komaeda sighs, eyes falling shut. “But you know, I probably could guess the endings though—and they might be more satisfying than the actual story. It’s not too bad—I didn’t care too much for quite a few of them, so I...”

“Is _that_  really the only thing you regret?” Hinata asks a bit jokingly, though he wonders if Komaeda could pick up the bitter melancholy in his tone. It must be obvious, especially when Komaeda does open his eyes to stare back at him—no doubt reading his expression with the focus he utilized for those stories. Komaeda does frown, faltering, and his fingers pull just a little away from each other, just enough that they were still laced together but looser.

“I...” he begins, surprisingly uncertain. “I do wish that...”

Hinata waits, stiff and unspeaking, though Komaeda trails off, tilting his head with a thoughtful expression. Like he was contemplating the right way to word it—or was stalling so that he didn’t have to. Hinata almost insisted so that the latter wouldn’t be the case, but Komaeda continued without him needing to.

“I think I would have liked it better if...” Another pause, and then, “I shouldn’t bought that one series that ended up in everyone dying. I was fooled by the cover into thinking it’d be more hopeful and it wasn’t that way at all—the characters were hackneyed, too. I didn’t even  _care_  about their suffering and deaths. I picked very poorly that day.”

Hinata chokes out a laugh, hard and almost angry. “You know that wasn’t what I had in mind at all.”

“Sorry for disappointing you,” Komaeda’s laugh sounds more upbeat, more genuine, despite how weak it also is. Despite also the slight tremor that’s in his raised, curled hand against his lips. Hinata’s harsh smile falls almost instantly, but Komaeda goes oh with the most possible amount of his usual cheer, “But it won’t be much longer. I’m sure you’ll have better luck with the next job, Hinata-kun. I wish you luck! Ehehe.”

“That’s not very funny,” Hinata says simply. “Especially coming from you.”

Komaeda’s smile turns sad, though he lets out another giggle into his hand. “Hinata-kun, you’re so serious. It’s rather cold.”

The brunet doesn’t answer that, instead directing his attention to that thin, curled hand. Without anything else, he reaches out, taking it and gently pulling it away to hold it within his own. He’s still warm, but felt even more fragile—so sorely easy to break. Komaeda shudders, drawing Hinata’s attention back to that sad, sad smile.

“Cold.” He says it airily, with a bit of mirth and a shrug of his shoulders as his head tilted. “You really are cold, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata’s response was to hold his hand only half a notch tighter in both of his own, tracing the veins of his thin wrist with one thumb and, on impulse, leaning down to press a kiss against his fingers. Komaeda hummed at that, noncommittally, and those fingers only twitched when he pulled away.

He might have felt the jump in his pulse from his wrist—but Hinata could have just as easily imagined that if not hoped for it. Komaeda was still warm, life still pulsing through his reedy, elegant fingertips with blood pulsing through his veins, allowing for that slight pink in his cheeks. Not much— _barely any change in tint, really, with how deathly pale he had gotten_ —so much so that he almost looked papery. But it was still something—it was still  _there_.

Hinata’s hold tightened a bit harder than it should have, but Komaeda didn’t even wince. He was, however, shivering just the slightest bit, his free hand curling its fingers into the sheets, and he let out this soft sound, just barely voiced and shaky as well. Hinata could almost hear that ticking again, soft at the start but building in volume and resounding in his ears, and he let that hand go so that Komaeda could grip it himself, squeezing and motioning the hand Hinata hadn’t held in a way that could have very well been a method to warm the other up.

“I’m sorry, Komaeda.” The apology comes unbidden from his lips, ruefully and brokenly, but Komaeda still smiles at him, still squeezing and cradling his own hand, and just laughs it off.

“I’m... I’m okay as I’ll ever be right now. Perhaps I should...rest it off? I know I haven’t been awake long, Hinata-kun, but I’m...” His laugh was dimmer, less enthusiastic as his shoulders slumped. “I’m so tired right now, for whatever reason.”

“Yeah,” Hinata agrees, albeit blankly. Komaeda leans his head back, with his lowering lashes and faded smile. Hinata finds himself frowning deeply, forlornly and then he approaches the other the closest he can get by the bedside before lowering himself to fold his arms upon the sheets, laying his head down upon them.

Komaeda’s eyes flicker towards him in a glance, and that weak smile does widen a bit before he looks back up, wistfulness in his tone, saying yet again, “I’m glad you’re here, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata’s fingers dig viciously into his arms.

* * *

The days following were fewer but seemed to drag on even more. Like slowing down from a dash into a walk once the goal was close enough—something like that. Something where it’d the easiest time for everything else to pass you by. Hinata recalled vaguely that he had never been very good at pacing himself.

Whatever use that information was—because it’s not like Hinata could stop dead in his tracks with time wrapping its unforgiving fingers around his wrists and yanking him forward whether he wanted to go or not.

There was still a little ways to go, and Hinata only wanted to dig his heels in where he was.

But nothing could be done—nothing at all.  _He **always**  wasn’t enough_—

“Hinata-kun,” His fingers were subconsciously digging into his neck, and Komaeda’s voice, however unsteady it had gotten this time, snapped him out of it. He pulled his hand away, resting it instead on the edge of the bed he was seated beside. He didn’t turn to Komaeda yet, still staring blankly ahead with his back to the wall, and ended up more surprised when he should have when he felt the wavering warmth of Komaeada’s weak fingertips ghosting over his hand. “Hinata-kun, what are you thinking about?”

Hinata yanked his hand away, keeping it close, staring hard at Komaeda’s hand—remaining where it was before curling and slowly pulling back. “It’s nothing, Komaeda.”

“Nothing I’d understand, I’m sure,” Komaeda murmured, soft and sounding unassuming. Hinata flinched all the same. “You know, Hinata-kun, you really do always seem to have a lot on your mind—but you so rarely talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes to which Komaeda lets out a feeble giggle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for—it’s not as though I asked all that often about you. In fact if I remember correctly, you were the one who insisted it was fine if I was curious.” A hum, and then Hinata moved forward a bit to properly glance at him—Komaeda pursing his lips in thought, smiling when he returned his stare, laughing as Hinata averted his eyes in embarrassment. “I should have taken more advantage of that, now that I think about it—and I wished I shared more stories too. I really liked reading with you, Hinata-kun.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Hinata answered without thought, though he did ponder how that would have sounded to Komaeda. And then he wondered aloud, “Do you really regret that, Komaeda?”

“I suppose I do. That’s silly, isn’t it?” Hinata shook his head at Komaeda’s faded smile, and that smile widened a bit, warm, even as Hinata found himself unable to meet it. “It would have been nice though, I think.”

“You can still ask about me.” The brunet found himself saying, low and quietly, almost like he was treading a thin line. “I’ll tell you anything—what does it matter at this point?”

That last question, sounding especially bitter to his own ears, made him shut his eyes tight. Komaeda sighed, all the same, “I’m sorry, Hinata-kun.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s not as though it  _matters_  at this point.”

“Does it?” Komaeda asks, to which he perks up. “Is that true? For some reason, I don’t believe that.”

“Komaeda...” He trails off, hesitating. “I... It’s... Fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help it. Hinata-kun is really worrying.” He’s the softest Hinata’s ever managed to have heard—though his voice is also tight, constricted with an emotion he couldn’t quite name at first. “Your attitude still bothers me. And I already told you that it... It shouldn’t be that way.”

 _You don’t have to be so vague. I know what you mean._  “I’m sorry, Komaeda.”

“Mm. We’ve been apologizing to each other a lot lately.” Komaeda muses before drawing in his knees, burying himself in them. “I don’t quite understand it, actually, and that bothers me as well. This kind of atmosphere is a bit much, isn’t it, Hinata-kun? Especially when our time together is going to end soon.”

_Don’t say that, don’t remind me, when there’s **nothing I can do**..._

“Komaeda, I...” When had he started reaching for Komaeda anyway? His hand stopped before brushing against his shoulder, wavering, and then he pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re hopeless.” Komaeda says, and sighs so heavily that his shoulders slump and he curls in tighter on himself. “That’s so despairing, Hinata-kun. I’m so disappointed in you.”

It hurt. And there was nothing else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry as well.” And then he sits up, knees against the surface of the bed as his posture straightens before going right back into a slight slouch, his hands daintily resting in his lap. He was still looking down, lashes lowered and eyes almost reading as demure but could have just as easily be that same, foreboding vacuity. “I...don’t think I’m making the situation any better. I’d like to. But what I’d like to do and what I actually do...they aren’t always the same thing, sadly. It’s frustrating.”

How bitterly Hinata understands this.

“Komaeda...”

“We don’t have much time left, right? It’s finally ending. So, we shouldn’t spend that time bickering...?” It came out as a bit of a question, Komaeda turning to Hinata pleadingly, uncertainly, and Hinata feels his defenses crumbling down. Then Komaeda gives that smile of his, one that whisks away the remaining dust and earns him to smile in return, even though it’s a small, miserable mockery, and it’s one of the last things he feels like doing right now.

“Yeah...” He does agree though, however rueful it comes out. Komaeda’s grin brightens, to his dismay.

“Hinata-kun, I’ve really enjoyed our time together, for what it’s worth.” Then, adding, “I’m happy you’re here. It’s nice that someone’s here. Even under these conditions.”

 _How careless._  That’s his initial thought, followed by a harsher, more heartbreaking revelation. _You must have been so lonely._

* * *

Even though less happens as the minutes go by, there’s still that thickness in the air, that heaviness that weighs on the time as it drags on. It was tiring in a lot of ways, especially watching Komaeda mostly rest through it, neither of them talking so much anymore.

Hinata just crossed his arms as the machines whirled on as before. Doctors still performed as usual when they had to, but Hinata kept his eyes on the book in his hand, on Komaeda’s name, bold as before with no chance of fading, on the owner of that name’s status and how it drew closer and closer.

When the doctors were finished for the last time, they left. Drearily, almost stoically, and Hinata suspected that they probably knew as well as he did. One had strayed for a bit, staying behind for only a few extra, small moments to stare at Komaeda who was still resting, breathing carefully despite all the wires and machinery, looking far, far too weak for his youth, and then just like the rest, that one left as well.

Hinata shut the book, and blankly conjured the necessary container. He could do this much—he’d done it before even with more gruesome sights. It was almost instinctive, though the sight of it once it appeared—so small and birdcage-like—always managed to sicken him regardless.

While he scowled at it was when Komaeda awoke, eyes drearily fluttering open and the turn of his head slow as he noticed, barely managing to push himself up. “Hinata-kun? What is...?”

“It’s for transportation.” The explanation was simple enough, and Komaeda understood that much, it seemed.

“So you’re not going to get a scythe?” There was a joking tint to the light question, and Hinata just shook his head, answering coldly.

“I  _hate_  using the scythe.”

“Ah, well,” he saw how Komaeda’s lips twitched, even with the cheery continuation. “Whatever works for you, I suppose.”

He smiled all the same, however frail it was, however hard it must have been to be awake. Hinata almost wishes he had just stayed asleep. He should probably tell him to go back to sleep—but the words won’t come, and for some reason, he just refuses to.

“So,” Komaeda goes on, with Hinata staying silent, the container poised on the desk, and Komaeda retains his cheer all the same, “This is...the end of it, I suppose? It wasn’t too much of a chore, Hinata-kun?”

_No, it wasn’t. But **you**  shouldn’t be the one speaking about it like that._

He stayed silent.

“If it was, at least it’s over now. Mm. Hinata-kun?” Hinata did perk up at that, and Komaeda smiles kindly—understanding and reassuring in a way that almost insisted that regardless of all else, everything would turn out fine. “I wish you luck in your future endeavors and hope for the best. Truly. From the bottom of my heart. So...”

“Is that all you have to say?” Hinata asked, cutting him short. Komaeda paused, and whether to his relief or dismay, that cheer cracked in place, revealing uncertainty and hesitation. Komaeda was a bit tense as well, troubled, and Hinata softened his tone, “Komaeda, just say how you really feel. Why would it matter at this point, right?”

“Mm. You say that, Hinata-kun...” He expected the ‘but’, except it never comes, and Komaeda takes a deep breath, settling himself and then meeting his gaze, with those cloudy-greens of his that rarely seemed clear yet now there was a focused intent there. One that had Hinata tense almost in anticipation. “Hinata-kun...”

He shouldn’t be hoping for this. It’d be cruel—too cruel if Komaeda admitted it now.

It’d be cruel. How awful would things get if he said that  _now_?

“Hinata-kun, I...”

_...But all the same..._

“I’m glad that I met you.”  _Ah._ Komaeda’s smiling still, however small it may be now, head low and voice soft but stable, with each passing word. “Admittedly, I was relieved when I met you, and having spent as much time as I did with you, no matter how boring a lot of those days were, I was happy. It was nice, having someone there and that you went through the extra effort of talking to me, reading with me... I appreciated it a lot. Hinata-kun is a really kind person and I’m glad...” He sighed, that smile widening just a bit as his eyes fell shut. “I’m beyond glad that my final days were spent with someone like you.”

“Is that how you really feel?” The question sounded almost indifferent. That was probably for the best. Especially with Komaeda nodding cheerily.

“I was happy, being with Hinata-kun. As sad as it is, you were probably...the closest thing I’ve had to a friend, and...” There was a laugh he stifled in his throat, and neither of them were sure what it was a response to. Whether it was happy or sad. “Under any other circumstances, this would probably be the part where I confess my love or something—how I ended up falling for the kind, considerate Hinata-kun who stayed by my side when I’ve had no one else for so long, but... Don’t you think that’d be...?”

“...the wrong thing to say.”

“Yes,” Komaeda agreed, his laugh coming out more like a scoff his time, and Hinata couldn’t help but respond harsher.

“That’s the  ** _wrong_**  thing to say.” They were growled this time, sharp and making Komaeda straighten up, smile disappearing as Hinata’s fists were clenching. “Don’t you have anything  _else_ to say? Anything else to  _admit_? You—you can’t be serious in saying  _that’s_  how you really feel. That’s  _wrong_ —there’s something  ** _else_** , right?”

“Hinata-kun...” Quieter, faltering. Hinata tried with all he had to keep himself from screaming.

“There’s more to it, right?! Something that even you can’t admit and... I’m telling you, it’s fine!” His voice rose, and he was still  _yelling_. He should stop. He really should stop.  ** _This isn’t_** —“Just tell me the truth, Komaeda!  _All of it_! Don’t hide anything—it’s  _fine_ , I  ** _swear_** —”

“Hinata-kun...” More hesitation. Still. It hurt. “I don’t...”

It hurts  _it_   ** _hurts_** —

“Komaeda—please—”

“I don’t...understand what you mean...” Komaeda met his gaze, and then asked, so very cautiously, “What do you want me to tell you so badly?”

Hinata absolutely snapped.

**_“That you’re scared!!”_ **

It was the loudest he’d ever gotten—and they resound in that closed up room, swirling around over and over to the point Hinata feel like he’s already well past hectic and he can’t stop himself. “Say that you’re  _scared_ —that you’re  _terrified_ —that  ** _you don’t want this_** —”

“ _Hinata-kun_...”  His name. Soft.  _Pleading_? Or maybe he imagined this, with how his eyes are screwed shut and his ears are ringing—that ringing’s so loud, it won’t stop, it  _hurts_ —

“Even if you cry, that’s fine,” and he’s babbling on, near hysterics even though those tears are never going to come for him, “It’s fine, Komaeda, to just admit that  _you don’t want to die_. You’re human, isn’t that  _normal_? Isn’t that how you’re  _supposed_ to feel? It’s fine—tell me... Just say it. Say that you don’t want to die and that you’re scared to— _that it **hurts**  that you will,  that  **you don’t want it**_ —because you shouldn’t, you couldn’t,  ** _you don’t_** —”

“Hinata-kun.” Louder. Clearer. Hinata snaps up, eyes wide and dangerously expectant, even as he was sincerely ashamed that he must have looked closer to breaking compared to Komaeda’s stricken face. Komaeda really looked so pained—so upset and distressed, and the way he inhaled was shaky.

It’d be cruel.  _But all the same..._

The silence dragged on, and Hinata vaguely noted the tremor in his fists that he quickly stilled. Komaeda, on the other hand, had his arms wrapped around himself and... He started shaking, trembling, head hanging low and fringe obscuring his gaze, only falling over those delicate cheeks, his pale mouth downturned. Downtrodden, almost.

_It hurt._

“Komaeda...” His voice died before he could continue, come up with something— _anything_ to say, and it felt like those frayed edges of that void in his chest stung all the more. In the very least, for Komaeda, he should have—

“I’m sorry, Hinata-kun.” A soft admittance, and he kept his gaze low as though he couldn’t bear to meet his eyes anymore. Hinata would laugh, would shake his head and say it’s nothing Komaeda needed to apologize for but he just stayed still and silent, feeling like he’ll really just break and not much else. Useless— _worthless_ — ** _never enough_** —“I can’t do that.”

“It’s fine...” Hinata said it, even though ‘fine’ was empty. But it was as fine as it’d ever be, right? What’s the point  _what’s the point_ —

“Hinata-kun?” Somehow, he vaguely snapped out it, perking up and Komaeda was looking at him, though it was a worried stare, eyes reflecting back...himself? That couldn’t be right, since grim reapers didn’t have reflections but then again he wasn’t supposed to be seen either, and Komaeda was...looking at him. Worriedly. “Hinata-kun, you really agonize over  _this_ , don’t you?”

**_...This?_ **

“Living...is something you really care about, right? Living—life—you care about it a lot, even for someone like me...”  _Especially_   for someone like him.  _Right?_  But his mind is racing, and Hinata can barely really think, but Komaeda... Komaeda’s smiling at him, bright, soft, sincere, but also a little sad. “Thank you.” And then, that smile widens. “Even if you don’t need to—thank you, Hinata-kun.”

 _...And that was it, wasn’t it?_  Hinata straightened himself, feeling like finally, Izuru’s cold calm washed over him, dissipating however momentarily the heavy fog that had been bogging him down all this time—clearing so that he could finally, cogently, see what was in front of him.

Komaeda Nagito.

His assignment.

_That was all there was to it._

“Komaeda,” Even as steady as it was, his voice still came out softer than he intended, and Hinata drew close. Komaeda kept his smile, but he was also attentive—receptive, and Hinata smiled wanly as he reached out, placing his hands on those bony shoulders, feeling that frailty and warmth that could be so easily crushed and suffocated underneath his fingertips. Komaeda flinches, blinks a bit quicker, but still smiles even as Hinata pushes so that he’s back to lying down on his back. “Don’t worry, Komaeda, it’ll all be over soon.”

Somehow, Komaeda relaxed, though those gray-greens were still staring curiously up at him, wide, innocent, and Hinata found himself ordering, “Close your eyes.”

And he does. His expression does pinch up a bit before smoothing again as Hinata drew nearer, leaning in closer—taking in the soft face with delicately curved cheeks, a pallor comparable to a doll, those just barely twitching eyelashes, all framed by messy, dove-white tresses... Hinata brushed those strands back, sighing as Komaeda tensed just a bit. “Soon. It’ll be over soon. Just one last thing.”

“Hina—” That half-formed murmur of his name was silenced as Hinata covered those lips with his own. Stilling them, pressing against them almost sweetly, and they were soft, supple under his touch. And so warm. Their warmth faded as their mouths remained connected, and they didn’t so much as stir as Hinata kept his hold steady for the seconds that it took.

There was a glow, soundless, followed by a long, resounding beep.

Hinata pulled back, hesitating before pressing a last kiss to those lips, and his grip loosened when he did manage to fully tear himself away and shut the container tight, almost slamming it shut. He was shaking—he usually shook after completing an assignment. It hadn’t gotten better, it had only gotten worse, and he turned back to Komaeda.

Komaeda was still, lips still barely parted on what would have been the last syllable of his ‘surname’. He looked like he was asleep again, but when Hinata’s twitching fingertips brushed against his throat, it was cold and silent under his touch.

 _Hinata-kun._ That voice rang in his ear despite that, as well as the last finished statement it ever made.  _Thank you, Hinata-kun._

The only sounds in actuality were the machines—and soon the doctors or nurses would rush back in to shut them off, to take care of the rest that could be handled here. But still, Hinata stared on at his completed assignment, still hearing that voice rewind itself in his ears again, over and over, and if he blinked hard enough, he would also still see that smile. But unlike the voice, that didn’t last long before he saw the truth again.

Eventually, he pulled out his book, flipping it open, and drew a thick line through the name  _Komaeda Nagito_.

* * *

He’s not sure how he managed to pull himself through the wall, the container in tow, with the glow of the soul flickering, pulsing within those walls. Hinata shushed it half-heartedly, though such a gesture was wasted, thumb stroking against the glass-like surface.

But any reassurances died in his throat and he found himself faltering just as he got outside, sinking until he reached the ground, sliding down until he was seated against the wall, staring vacantly at the cage in his hands before he managed to set it down beside him, and drew his knees in close to hug them tight.

It didn’t take too long before he began shaking again, and it mustn’t have been much longer before he heard his name.

“Hajime.”

It shouldn’t register as a shock, but it does—jerking through his body and causing him to flinch in his closed off position. Hinata couldn’t even look up, burying his face further, with a long litany of apologies still coming through albeit muffled and a bit broken in places.

“Hajime,” Izuru says again, and he can’t even pick up the tone. “Hajime, it...”

“Komaeda Nagito died ahead of schedule.” He just barely managed to pull himself back, though his tone was as bitter and biting as ever. “I... I messed up, Izuru, he was supposed to pass away in his sleep and I...”

“It is nothing of serious consequence, Hajime,” Izuru responds simply, like it was really  _nothing at all_. “It happens, sometimes.”

Hinata still couldn’t bring himself to look at him—at anything really—instead just unseeingly staring at the ground. There was rustling overhead from the wind against the leaves, and he could hardly feel the breeze, his twitching fingers couldn’t really pick up anything.

“Hajime...”

“Komaeda...had been  _waiting_  for death all this time, hadn’t he?” Hinata only asked because he didn’t want to hear Izuru using such a tone. When Izuru only nodded once, he found he couldn’t just stop there, “That makes sense, doesn’t it? If he did end up surviving, perhaps leaving the hospital... Who would he return home to? Komaeda didn’t have family or any friends, and death was probably the only thing he could look forward to... He wasn’t waiting for things to get better, or worse, or really for anything else to occur—just for it all to end... And it has. It’s ended. He doesn’t...have to wait anymore... His suffering’s completely stopped.”

_It’s all stopped. It’s ended. Komaeda is—_

“There’s still the matter of transporting his soul,” Izuru points out, and softly offers, “If you need me to make the return trip in your stead...”

His gaze drifted towards the container, but before he could so much as reach for it, Hinata snatched it away and held it close, stricken-faced.

It was pathetic, he knew, clinging still to this soul in a cage while the body would soon be covered and burned soon after. But he couldn’t stop clutching it tight against him, traitorous mind locked on the soul’s previous owner and that owner’s smile.

“I...” He looked between the soul and Izuru then back at the cage, fingers tightening around it. It wouldn’t break, so it was fine. Fine. “No. I can do that much, at least. I should do that much. Komaeda is...my assignment. He’s mine.”

The claim tasted off, but he couldn’t be bothered to figure out if he cares that much for it. He forces himself to stand, eyes still on the cage, on the still pulsing, flickering light of the soul. Komaeda’s soul. Faded. It needed to be delivered.

“L-Let’s just go, Izuru,” Hinata managed, stammering, to which Izuru simply nodded and flew ahead, though he did patiently wait for Hinata to follow. Hinata drifted after him, and his gaze momentarily rose to Izuru’s back, his long, tied up hair barely rustled by the wind. This was familiar. Izuru leading the way for him—always seeming both within and out of reach.

And yet, he barely felt the usual pain. He just felt numb—numb save for the particularly heavy weight of the container in his hands. It’s always been heavy...but never this heavy. He’s not so naïve that he doesn’t realize why.

The owner is still on his mind. Still calmly smiling, still saying his name—still apologizing and thanking him.

_...Ridiculous._

He couldn’t stop himself from wishing that he’d like to see that person again. Speak to them again. Listen to them again. Perhaps fall in love again. Normally.

_Ah but that..._

That’s  ** _impossible_** , isn’t it? He’s just wasting his time entertaining such a pipe dream.

Hinata held the container close to him, against his silent chest in a tight, constrictive circle. The soul pulsated all the same, and Hinata found himself stopped in the air, the world blurry below and the sound almost nonexistent.

Izuru halts at the same time he’s realized it, and he turns back, drawing towards him, and Hinata just lets himself burst.

“I’m sorry, Izuru, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Hajime...?” The lilt signifying the question is soft—hard to pick up, but he still does, and it just makes it worse.

“I’ll still take the soul back where it needs to go but after that... I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” It hurts, falling apart  _hurts_. Breaking— ** _falling apart_** —it’s  _agonizing_. And it feels like parts of him are failing in the midst of it. And there’s...nothing he can do. “I don’t  _want_  to do this anymore—I... I’ve always hated being a grim reaper. I’ll  _always_  hate it. It doesn’t even matter if no one else sees me, I don’t want to watch them die anymore.”

_Even if I disappear..._

_...isn’t disappearing preferable to just suffering for the rest of eternity?_

_I’d rather disappear than just stay trapped forever._

“Hajime.” Izuru sounded urgent, gripping his shoulders and maybe he meant to shake him back into sanity. He didn’t. His hands remained still, but that hard gaze remained, teeth gritting and Hinata feels his grip tighten. But other than that... It really doesn’t feel like anything. “Don’t.”

_I already feel the worst about my death—why must I continue to atone for it? What’s the point? Why must I be punished for so long when I already feel so much pain?_

_What’s the point? I don’t know. I’ve never known. I don’t think I’ll ever know._

_...unless...you tell me._

_Please tell me. Please._

_I’m scared—_

**_Komaeda_ ** _—_

“Izuru...” He never felt so lost—so much at a loss—and he’s begging, completely unashamed. “What am I supposed to do?”

**_Was there really_ nothing _I could have done for you? Does that mean...there’s no hope for myself either?_**

“You need to finish this.” Izuru stated, and the two of them looked down, at Komaeda’s soul, flickering and wavering. Hinata held it closer, to the point his embrace trembled, and Izuru continued softly, “That’s what’s important now—that this assignment is finished, allowing Komaeda Nagito to ascend properly.”

Somehow, Hinata managed to nod, though not before seeing his miserable reflection in the glass. He forced himself to straighten, swallowed, and his eyes stung. But it wasn’t anything, of course. Then suddenly, he flashed back to Komaeda’s smile.

...For Komaeda, in the very least, he needed to finish this. Komaeda didn’t need to suffer anymore. Komaeda...

 _Komaeda, if I_ could _ever see you again, I’d like—_

_I’d like to apologize. And say thank you. Like you did. Even if you can’t understand it. I’m so sorry, Komaeda, **thank you** —_

“Hajime...” Hinata perked up, eyes wide. Izuru was still steadying him, still staring at him intently...worriedly. Then, still speaking so softly, “Shall we go?”

“Yeah...” he agreed, nodding meekly, and despite that, Izuru led him away carefully, never leaving his side. Izuru always did so much for him. He...appreciated that. “Thank you, Izuru.”

“Hajime,” he asked— _and if Hinata was any more naïve, he’d think that perhaps Izuru was what could be considered ‘embarrassed’ like always whenever Hinata thanked him_ —but he was still being quiet. Careful. “Following this... What do you plan to do?”

_“Hinata-kun.”_

“I don’t know.” the admittance came easily, and he leaned against Izuru, still holding that container close as the return trip dragged on and on.

_“I’m sorry.”_

“But I... I don’t think I can do this anymore... Are you mad at me, Izuru?”

“No.” He answered quickly, almost like he expected that answer. He probably did. Hinata ruefully and weakly smiled. “No, I’m not even surprised.”

_“Thank you.”_

“I’m sorry, Izuru.”

“Why?”

The only answer he could think of was crying. Grim reapers couldn’t cry. So there wasn’t an answer he could give—instead he just sighed, and apologized again in a softer, meeker tone. Izuru may have gotten irritated—it’s entirely possible that he was angry, given that tightened grip around his shoulders. But Izuru still has that neutral expression—that resigned calm.

Komaeda’s smile then was the same. That dying human’s last smile not just for a grim reaper but for himself as well. Another pipe dream came to mind with that realization—the wish that instead of kissing that remaining life away, he could have kissed him and held him in an act of reassurance. Somehow staying steady and secure when he told him like before, that it was fine to cry and want to live. Grim reapers couldn’t cry and they weren’t living anymore but humans—

... _Except_. Komaeda would never have done that. He would have broken in his cold embrace, and his desires to live on would have been all in vain. It would have been a cruel end. As careless as he could be—regarding both Hinata and himself—Komaeda couldn’t have  _done_  that. Hinata didn’t really  _want_ him to anyway, he just  _wanted_...

What, exactly?

_He wanted..._

**_What?_** For Komaeda to fulfill the void that had been with him since his death?

Komaeda, with his kind consideration and his carelessness—reading him those stories, smiling at him, seeing him, warm under his fingertips and lips with a blessedly beating heart until it all ended. Komaeda, who he ended up caring for in ways he never could have defended himself against, with every conversation dragging him further down where it  _hurt_. Komaeda, who was now just another assignment he needed to fully complete, with the cold container still held close to him, the soul inside silent but still so precious.

He’s tired. But he can complete this. If anything else, he can do this one last thing.

_But after that... What do I do? I can’t continue. Not anymore._

Grim reapers couldn’t rest—couldn’t really dream either, so he wouldn’t even be able to drift into another world where that white-haired boy could smile at him again, could hold his hand again, and this time, the warmth between their fingers would be exchanged with one another rather than be siphoned from one to the other. Pipe dreams. All pipe dreams that just served to punish him more with the looming reality.

All to add on to his already persevering penance. It was cruel. Unbelievably cruel.

“It’s unfair, isn’t it, Izuru?” he found himself asking. He didn’t realize it could be taken as an answer to that ‘why’ he had so easily forgotten. Izuru didn’t respond at first. “Existing like this—being forced to go on and being punished constantly—and for what? Being nothing more than a coward who gave up? Isn’t this too cruel?”

“If that is how you perceive it.” The low murmur almost surprised him, and Hinata immediately perked up, turning to him, wide-eyed. Pleading. Even though Izuru’s expression was still the same. Even though his words were so much different than what he was used to, especially when it came to Izuru. “Perhaps there is another reason for all this.”

“You actually sound unsure— _this can’t be possible_ —you don’t  _know_?” Astounded, Hinata nearly snorted, and he found himself wanting to laugh and sigh and break all over again. It was like _he_  liked punishing himself along with everything else.

“I’m sorry, Hajime.”

He wanted to cry. More than anything, he wished he could cry. He can already picture Komaeda—not crying, of course, but instead smiling sadly for them, pitying them, and Hinata would wish him the best once this was all over. And after that—he didn’t know. And Izuru wouldn’t know either.

Maybe this was something neither of them would ever know.

If he could guess really, if it wasn’t out of cruelty things were the way they were, then maybe it was—

_A second chance, perhaps?_

He could have cried harder at that, but he wouldn’t know if once done crying whether he’d smile, or frown. Komaeda, though—

Komaeda would smile, bright and sincere, and wish him the best, all while apologizing and thanking him for—

_I want to see you again—I want to see that smile that isn’t resigned, that’s reassured and sincere. If something like that was really possible then maybe, maybe I’d believe this was all just a second chance._

But for now, he could only complete the assignment, Izuru close by his side, and the only smile he’d get like that would have to be one imagined. It doesn’t matter now anyway. He had to complete the assignment. Now, that was what mattered and after?

He’d see.

Perhaps if he refused to continue, then he’d just cease to be altogether. He...actually isn’t sure if he’s fine with that. But he could perhaps accept that far easier than he should. If he does, he should thank and apologize to Izuru more for everything.

And perhaps he’d admit everything as well with nothing else mattering.

Komaeda would be so disappointed and—would that really be alright?

He isn’t sure. He doesn’t know. Nothing more than that.

_“Hinata-kun, I’m sorry. Thank you.”_

He just had to finish  _this_.

With the container held close, Komaeda tight in his embrace in place of any condolences, Hinata focused on nothing else.


	2. Side-Story: Izuru's Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reap and return, back and forth, and follow orders in the meantime. That's the most advisable route in being a grim reaper, an unending routine as punishment. Kamukura understands that, and he knows this well. It's boring, but bearable, especially when there are breaks that happen every now and then. One occurs in meeting and caring for Hinata Hajime, though the other is unsurprisingly soft and vulnerable as quite a few premature grim reapers are in the beginning. He may not last long, but it's also possible he may manage either way.
> 
> If he manages, that's all that really matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though it's just a side-story and seemingly a prequel, please don't read this before the main story. Just a second warning!
> 
> I had started this thinking, "I'd actually like to explore the KamuHina dynamic and how they started out" as well as trying my hand at writing Kamukura again because he's one of the rougher characters for me. I ended up regretting it. But I finished it anyway. In the very least, it gave me the opportunity to improve the main story in the meantime, so I can't say I entirely regret it.
> 
> Junko shows up here, yes, but she's not the reason why everything's so messed up. That said, she doesn't help either.

In many ways, nothing really changed from now and then, he’s sure.

Follow orders, back and forth, reap and return, all in a loop that’s impossible to escape, lest everything all at once be compromised. There’s a familiarity to this unending routine, only this time he’s well aware that escape truly is a futile option. A bitter option, whose only results consist of pain and regret for the attempt.

In many ways, he’s bored by it.

But he is not one who makes the same mistake twice.

* * *

After enough time is spent in the loop, he ends up coming across a break. A pause, under the false light of the headquarters, with one of the higher-ups standing before him, cloaked hand on the shoulder of a downtrodden brunet that may in fact be one of the most miserable beings he had ever seen.

The brunet’s head was hanging low, ashamed frown on his face with the dullest hazel gaze. Everything about him spoke like a withered crop, brown, crumpled, and barely hanging together. His attire was part of a uniform without the blazer, tie limply secured, shirt untucked and disheveled—it was likely only the higher-up keeping him steady.

“Kamukura Izuru,” the higher-up states, low and cool, and he perks up attentively as he usually does. Though this time, there still feels like a tug in the air, urging him to keep looking at the brunet. “This is a newcomer, Hinata Hajime.”

Izuru’s gaze returns to this Hinata Hajime.

“Please take good care of him.”

And it stays.

* * *

Hinata Hajime is really nothing of particular interest. There are many grim reapers who start out the same—weak-willed students who end up crushed one way or another, and instead wind up here when they were hoping for an escape. Izuru himself may have been no different, but those thoughts are not advisable ones to have.

“Ah... Kamukura...?” His voice is wavering, hesitant. Izuru decides he doesn’t care for it as such.

“If we’re to be partners,” he responds, staring hard at the cold stone wall before flickering his gaze to said partner, taking in how he perks up, how his arms are crossed the same way as Izuru’s own, “We should use first names rather than last. Is that fine, Hajime?”

“A- _Aah_...” Hajime falters, but mutely nods. He’s still so weak. He may not last very long. Izuru doubts the possibility that he would, at least, but at the same time...

It’d be rather boring, if Hajime ended up fading away and everything went back to the ‘normal’ of before so quickly.

“I...Izuru?”

Izuru perks up.

His name does sound different, drifting from Hajime’s lips and in such an unsure voice. It had been a while—it might have even been the first time he heard it like that. It’s new. Unfamiliar.

“Yes?”

“W-What exactly...” Hajime’s hold on himself tightens, his expression twisting in bewilderment and trepidation. “What’s going to happen? I...I don’t understand what’s been going on lately. I don’t even remember...”

Oh, yes. That’s right. He was still a newcomer. Izuru had almost forgotten, ironically, what being a newcomer was like.

“You know what grim reapers are, yes?” Hajime does nod, albeit tentatively. “Well, that’s what you are right now. A grim reaper.”

“B-But I’m human!!” Hajime immediately argues, to which Izuru shuts down swiftly.

“No, that’s wrong. Surely you’ve noticed by now that your chest lacks a heartbeat. That all you’ve felt lately is chill.” Now, for instance, Hajime makes a face that _should_ look like blood is draining from it, but his ‘skin’ doesn’t change color the same way it changes expressions. His eyes are wide, terrified, and when he presses his hand to his chest, desperate, it’s clear there’s nothing thrumming underneath. Izuru continues as he begins to shake, “Humans who commit suicide are turned into grim reapers. Your case was surely no different. So here you are, Hinata Hajime, a newly formed grim reaper.”

Like any withered crop in a crushing grip, Hajime crumbles.

* * *

He’s despondent for a while afterwards, tucked away in the corner of the room, hugging his knees with a buried face. Izuru sorts through paperwork in the meantime, and pulls his needle through the fabric on the side. He’ll surely be finished with both before the time comes when Hajime’s given his first assignment.

 _Though,_ he glances towards Hajime, still stuck in that fetal position. He’s stopped shaking, at least. Still... _What to do in the likely scenario he’s unable to complete it?_

The answer’s clear, but it isn’t an advisable one. He’d surely get in trouble for it. But it’s preferable to the assignment not being completed at all. Then again, Hajime may end up surpassing his expectations.

Such is unlikely. But... _Perhaps..._

Izuru completes the attire and he folds it as he stands. “Hajime.”

Hajime doesn’t budge, even as he draws nearer. Though he does perk up slightly, pulling away just barely enough that he could see the offered clothes in Izuru’s hands. He blinks as the other explains, simply, “I should have gotten your measurements correct, but if not so, do let me know. Now dress. If you’re going to take on any future assignments, you should look like a professional. That disheveled state of dress will do you no favors.”

“I...I don’t think I care about that... But...” Hajime takes it from him, still downcast but sincere in his statements, “Thank you, Izuru. Does this...match your suit?”

“It’s not tailored the exact same way. The color is lighter.”

“...I can’t tell...”

“That doesn’t surprise me. If you’d like, you can keep your tie. It’s in good enough quality.”

“...Thanks.” Hajime nods, and he does smile, a little.

That’s progress.

* * *

He was on the mark about measurements, though Hajime still looked uncomfortable in such attire, even more so when Izuru redid his tie for him. He was certainly embarrassed as Izuru tightened the fabric until it was snug against his neck, swallowing and flinching like he wasn’t used to this kind of contact. He most likely wasn’t, but he stayed pliant enough.

When finished, he pulled away to properly observe. Hajime was sheepish, head lowered, but in the very least his mood was improving even if it was just a little at a time. “Izuru,” he starts, glancing up fleetingly before dropping his gaze again, “Do I look alright?”

“Acceptable. Though perhaps it doesn’t seem to, _hm_ , befit you. For now, however, it’s decent enough.”

Hajime nods, still not meeting his eyes directly—avoiding it, it seemed, to which Izuru’s expression didn’t change. “Thank you...again. Sorry, I—I’m just still overwhelmed. You weren’t...serious about what you said earlier, right? This isn’t just some elaborate prank? It’s not funny...”

“I have no reason to jest.”

“You could just like messing with people,” Hajime pointed out. Izuru raised an eyebrow though, and that had him faltering all over again. “I... I just...”

“You’re in a precarious position—most certainly stressed and most likely paranoid... Hajime, have you been feeling a bit of pain, lately?” Hajime nodded a bit, admitting it was just a little, but that...

“I mostly feel...out of it. Like I’m not working properly or something—if I’m not really alive anymore...”

“Which you aren’t.”

To that, Hajime winced. “How can you say something like that so carelessly? Don’t tell me you just accepted this right away...?”

 _...Hm._ He did recall being disoriented in the beginning, perhaps perplexed about his position, but once he had it explained to him, that all faded away. Even the pain became ignorable, insignificant. But Izuru can recognize when someone else will end up a different case from himself.

Hinata Hajime was very clearly weaker. More sensitive. Too soft, really. His potential efficiency was dubious—doubtful. But one thing Hajime did display was some perceptiveness, given the way his expression twisted and he sighed so heavily,

“I’m not like that. Sorry, I’m just...not. What am I supposed to do about that, Izuru?”

At least he was searching for guidance now, rather than staying still and silent in his suffering as he had before, and perhaps, in the very least, Hajime would prove to be a hard worker. Reliable, in spite of his weaknesses.

“...Well...”

* * *

Hajime was a dutiful listener, in the very least—ideal for a student. He asked questions, asked for clarifications, and seemed to soak in the information well enough. He was honest, as well, he certainly didn’t pretend he understood a concept while his expression made it clear he didn’t. A bit blunt to the point of informality, true, but that fault was minor and forgivable. Izuru could care less about little things like that—they wouldn’t affect his work, only his communication skills.

For grim reapers, those mattered very little.

Though if he told Hajime that, it’d just make him uncomfortable again. Then again, how likely was it that Hajime would step into the role enough to the point where he wouldn’t be affected by such things anymore? But perhaps Izuru should stop mentally stacking the odds against the partner in his care for the time being when it hasn’t been very long. It was rather unfair, wasn’t it?

Though compassion as well, mattered very little to grim reapers. At least not to the ones who weren’t in the pediatric ward. Perhaps Hajime should have been assigned to _that_ division—though really, that was very much capable of making things worse for his mental state.

He did ask Hajime about considering it either way and was immediately shot down. So that was the end of that.

As it was, Izuru drilled him all the same about how to handle assignments and how to reap and though Hajime never looked less uncertain and disturbed— _perhaps sickened, which wouldn’t be a surprise either_ —still, enough time passed that the higher-ups handed over what would be his first assignment for Izuru to look over beside him, and to assist him into reaping—coaxing him into what would be his eternal role.

It doesn’t go well. But...not entirely for the reasons he expected.

* * *

In all honesty, he should have really noticed it sooner, regardless of how little time transpired before Hajime failed to do the job himself.

Their first assignment was a man that could have only been in his forties with the cause listed as an incoming stroke. The reason was clear, seeing that the man close-up was stressed, dazed, and working as though he were a machine not a person, until the gears rusted and parts broke.

Otherwise, he was a plain man with an indistinct appearance who lived a just as ordinary life though there was a noticeable distance between him and his wife. Izuru watched him interact with her politely, but outside of a few scant brushes of contact, nothing about their conversations hinted at affection, only a cold, hardened routine. _She_ was stressed as well, almost to the same degree as her husband. But she wasn’t the assignment, so Izuru didn’t observe her for too long.

Hajime, however, couldn’t stop looking at her in addition to the actual assignment, and his frown was deepening, at times his brow furrowing as though there was something more to it that he couldn’t yet find. With each passing moment he couldn’t, he only seemed to get more troubled.

“Hajime?” He almost jerks, startled, but Izuru regards him neutrally. “What is it?”

“I... It’s nothing.” The diversion attempted is pitiful, especially with Hajime unable to meet his gaze.

“Focus on the assignment, Hajime, if nothing else.” The order is direct yet quiet, and Hajime just stares warily at the man. Izuru explains carefully, “You have to always be aware of their condition—how close or far away their upcoming death is.”

“But... This guy’s just going to work himself to death, isn’t he?” The question is even quieter, voice flat and Hajime’s face falls with the words, too soft and sympathetic. “Izuru, can’t we...”

“We can only wait for that certain end, no matter how uncertain the hour is.” Matter-of-fact and objectionable as always, but Hajime doesn’t seem comforted. Of course not, but Izuru softens his next statement. “There’s nothing we can do if the assignment continues on this track. Neither he nor his wife even know we’re here, Hajime—they can’t see us.”

“It makes sense that the living can’t see death.” Hajime notes, but he doesn’t continue beyond that, instead lowering his head and staying silent for the rest of the time they’re in that quiet, quiet house of this normal, average couple drowning in a heavy, heavy atmosphere.

There are a couple of things Izuru continues to note that aren’t so normal or average—this persistent quietness of the living, the pervasive  lack of contact outside of shallow formalities, the lack of pictures... He’s able to piece together the situation easily enough even without further exploration, but he says nothing.

But, perhaps, he should have made a few extra leaps. He wouldn’t have overlooked that problematic _possibility_ if he had.

* * *

All the same, the man expectedly goes to work, early in fact, and he throws what’s left of himself almost instantly. Hajime is able to summon the container and his scythe—it’s instinctive, but he holds both so uncomfortably, so Izuru handles the former, gesturing for him to just move on ahead—and as he approaches the man, he’s shaking. That quaking only gets worse when that stroke hits, the man seizing up as Izuru carefully opens up the container.

Then something happens that isn’t entirely accounted for. Hajime hesitates, which Izuru does expect, and just as Izuru decides to place the container aside to step in if needed—something happens when the man has fallen over, vision clearly swimming in and out and Hajime uncertainly looms, scythe in hands still and still shaking and then—Hajime freezes completely when that man almost reaches for him, choking out something and Hajime at that moment flees to the other side of the office.

Izuru doesn’t miss a beat when he gets to the assignment, summoning his scythe and immediately swinging down. The body goes still, limp, and the soul that floats upwards before flying into the container has a soft glow. Izuru drifts over to shut the door, and when he directs his attention to Hajime, he’s curled up in the corner again, but clutching onto his hair, eyes bugging.

It...isn’t a reaction he accounted for, but one he understand when Hinata does choke out, coherent, “I-I... I _knew_... Izuru...” And then his eyes screw shut as he curls more in on himself, gasping— _convulsing_ , and Izuru is quickly close enough beside him. “U- _Urgh_ —I... I... ** _it hurts so much please_** —”

He flickered, almost in and out of existence, and Izuru grabbed his wrists, gripping them tightly, and speaking, loudly, sharply so that the other’s gaze would snap up, “Hajime. Stop. Stop **_thinking_**.”

Hajime does look at him, startled at first, but he starts shaking again, to which Izuru grows sterner, harsher, “If you continue to think like this in _this_ state, you will cease to be. _Stop_.”

_You haven’t been settled fully yet. You’re still unsteady._

He does still, blinks once, and those words manage to mercifully sink in, supplanting the previous thoughts, “C...Cease?”

_You’re teetering on the edge of existence. You aren’t fully eased into your role._

“You’re in a precarious position, too premature as a grim reaper. So extra care needs to be taken until you manage to complete an assignment...” He trails off, and there’s more to it, but now isn’t the time and Hajime doesn’t seem particularly curious either way, instead faltering.

“I... I couldn’t do it Izuru... I...”

Before he could continue, Izuru cut him off, “That no longer matters. I completed this assignment myself and in the end, it was carelessly assigned to you in the first place. I’ll make that clear to the higher-ups, and for now, we just need to take the soul back and move on.  Have you assigned to something else. As long as you’re careful for the time being, you have time, Hajime.”

Hajime was still looking down, more at his own knees and less at Izuru. But despondence was preferable to disappearing, so Izuru simply assisted him up and ordered him to not look at the body anymore. He handled the container himself as before, but Hajime stuck by close, and just as Izuru had managed to lead him out, he softly mumbled, “...Thanks, Izuru... I’m sorry for not...”

“It’s of no concern. Stop thinking.”

Hajime does nod, and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the return trip. He doesn’t look back, but Izuru does wonder if his mind does wander back—but unless Hajime starts displaying those signs again, it’s of no concern for the time being.

They needed to move forward, and he needed to be assigned to something else. Something that would go differently.

* * *

“Ka _mu_ ku _ra_ -kun!”

The talk with the higher-ups had gone well enough—though Izuru wasn’t naïve enough to relax so soon. There was still the matter of dealing with another assignment and making sure all went well enough this time, with making sure Hajime remained stable, with...

“Hey, K _a_ m _u_ k _u_ r _a_ -k ** _u_** n?” Arms wrapped around his arm like constricting snakes, and she beamed up at him, eyes bright and red lips pulled into a wide smile. Then her grip tightened with enough force that Izuru could assume for a human, it could very well break the bone. “Are you _ignoring_ me?”

His lack of an answer was an answer to that question. He stood still though, not bothering to tug his arm free—that’d encourage her—and instead blankly stared ahead. She hummed, pressed close enough that there was little room between him and her chest, big blue eyes blinking curiously up at him before that grin returned. “Hey. Is it true that Hinata-kun’s first assignment was someone he _knew_?”

A response wouldn’t have changed a thing—she laughed immediately after, and didn’t miss a beat, wouldn’t have allowed a peep in edgewise. “Wow, that’s one unlucky guy! And so despairing! Yet he’s still here, isn’t he? And still a _premature_ grim reaper, too—you protected him, Kamukura-kun? I **_knew_** you were knightly under that dark, gloomy exterior! _How nice_!”

Once going, her words could blur together as quick as constant bullets, every bit as merciless and overkill. That was the kind of being she was—“Did you have a change of heart in that hollow chest of yours? Are you already attached? Or, perhaps, does he remind you—”

Such things didn’t matter anymore. And she was wasting enough of his time as it was—he needed to return to Hajime and back to—

“Eh, eh? What is it?” But she kept her grip on his arm when he tried to pull out. Izuru shot her an irritated glare, and she blinked up at him again, blue eyes wide. Waiting for the moment he drowns with a childlike curiosity and cruelty. “Hey, I hardly ever see you anymore, Kamukura-kun. Are you really going to leave and go back to work already?”

His response was to pull again, but she tightened her grip, whining. “How cold! You’re really heartless, you know that?! Always work, work, work with you and no time whatsoever for anything else! If you were anything like this when you were alive, it’s no wonder you ended up offing yourself!”

He is not one to make the same mistake twice. This time, he stands his ground, glare hardening. She puffs her cheeks, booing, and finally, mercifully and cheerily, lets him go with a laugh.

“But, you know, Kamukura-kun, I do wonder how long that attitude really is going to last when you got all eternity to break down again. I mean, this Hinata-kun may prove to result in a break in that loop, you know?” Her smile was wide, a lazy grin with a malevolent glint in her gaze. “I’ve already seen that you look at him and talk about him with this intensity that’s really new, especially coming from you. But it’s easy to determine what kind of creature Hinata Hajime is, and I must say, it’s really something that you _feel_ for someone who’s most likely hopeless!”

He turned and left, but she just calls after him. “Hey, Kamukura-kun! I wish _you_ luck though, no matter what may _ha_ ppen with Hinata-kun!”

He’s not one that makes the same mistake twice. Though it still irritates him how difficult it is to adapt to certain aspects, and now especially, with her laughing and waving goodbye—he didn’t look back but he knows, he’s sure of it, he knows he’ll be able to hear her if he so much as focuses—but that’s in the past now. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It doesn’t matter—nothing then matters— _present progress is everything_ —

“Izuru?”

Hajime’s a little skittish though when he slams the door open, running his fingers through his black hair irritably, though he doesn’t let it show on his face. He wonders if Hajime still notices, but his uncertainty remains the same, still uncomfortable as he manages to ask what happened.

With the higher-ups, of course, and about nothing else.

Izuru tells him without a beat of hesitation.

* * *

It takes a while, but Hajime’s reliable when it comes to the less important but still tedious paperwork in-between, sorting them and shifting through them carefully. Almost throwing himself into it. Izuru commends him, quietly and unassumingly enough, and Hajime glances at him uncertainly, but does continue on with a small smile, in an improved mood.

That’s progress. However small it is, progress is progress. And progress is everything.

_“...it’s really something that you actually feel for someone who’s most likely...”_

Izuru straightened the stack before setting it off to the side, and his eyes catch, for the moment on whatever reason, on the paperwork denoting an eventual assignment where the cause of death was listed as sickness. One of the simplest kinds of assignments—usually these were preferable starts for grim reapers, though they tended to be tedious like the paperwork.

But for now, he placed the papers where they needed to be and the sorting continued until all were organized accordingly. However, Hajime, with the distraction of harmless tedium gone, seemed to be on edge again.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Izuru told him as he undid the tie of his suit to redo it. “Do you perhaps have some unvoiced concerns, or are you just still worried in spite of all I’ve told you before?”

“It’s partially that, but...” Hajime was fiddling with his own tie, though his gaze was stuck on the window looking out at the fake world out there. “I...can’t stop thinking of...”

“That’s dangerous.” He repeats this, but a sharp gaze scans the brunet to make sure his form wasn’t flickering, that he didn’t look like he was in a particular pain. Hajime is hesitating, his fingers tightening in the fabric, and that sharpness of his stare dulls. “This may be a punishment, Hajime, but dwelling will do little good overall. Since there is nothing else we can do, the most effective option is to just accept this responsibility we have in reaping souls to assist their ascendance.”

“Is that...really all there is to it, Izuru?”

“Yes.” He’d known this from the beginning and accepted it as well, and though that may not be so easy for others, nothing about these facts change. It’s really the only practical way to go through this punishment—preferable to disappearing within painful memories and regret, and far preferable to just wandering an endless maze aimlessly.

**_“...most likely hopeless!!”_ **

“That’s all there is to it,” he repeats coldly, and to what may be dismay—Hajime _still_ looks hesitant and disturbed.

But he does nod. And that’s progress. At the very least, there’s still progress.

* * *

The next assignment is botched by the reasons he expected would ruin the first. Basically the sight of burning wreckage and bloodied bodies ended up being too much—Hajime was showing quite a bit of misfortune after all. And he was far, far too sensitive.

Izuru took over again, unaffected yet careful as he reaped, and this time Hajime ended up watching him, arms folded and eyes wide, still stricken with horror. The assignment stopped twitching, though there was still a rush in getting to this body along with the others, and the sirens rang loud enough in the air to irritate him.

In the seconds it took to finally regain himself, Hajime shakily grabbed the container, shutting it, but holding it at a distance with a grimace. Izuru looked back impersonally, and Hajime’s eyes screwed shut as he stammered out, “I-I’m sorry... Can we...can we just leave? Next time... I’ll do this next time... I’m sorry...”

“Next time,” Izuru echoes. Hajime nods, but with that pained, twisted expression and how he’s desperately trying to look anywhere where the blood and other bodies are—the paramedics had gotten in time, so there wouldn’t be any more immediate causalities, though it was likely more assignments would still come out of this—there’s really nothing much to do here except make the return trip.

Hajime is going to face harsh scolding though—his not reaping is just prolonging this risky state he’s in. Izuru is going to be scolded as well—when was the last time _that_ happened? Even if he’s already sure of how it’ll go, it’s still...something new. Different from usual.

But it’s not a sort of difference he’s that keen into delving into, and for now, his focus is helping Hajime along like he was told. At some point, this would have to go one of two ways—certainly, this situation wouldn’t occur unendingly with each new assignment. He certainly _could_ take care of the work Hajime was unable to, but...

Hajime, who would shrink under the scolding, clench his fists and try to steel himself for further assignments, would find the ability eventually...if not...

**_“...most likely—”_ **

**_...That._** Though for whatever reason, he found the idea of _that_ felt...unpleasant. Twisting. It could have been the association of _her_ , but looking at Hajime, uncertain and rather small as he held the container and followed him, the feeling only ever got worse.

* * *

Curious, and time would only tell how the case turned out. Hajime was on edge even as Izuru put forth an unaffected front as they left the higher-ups. Hajime’s fists were clenching, expression pinched up and tight with what could only be stress and insecurity.

“Izuru,” the voice doesn’t surprise him, and Hajime’s harsh sigh doesn’t either. “I... I’ll do the next one for sure. Hit me if I freeze up so I do it. Please.”

“You won’t really feel that, Hajime.” Though he certainly would if Hajime insisted, even if it’d be useless. “If you think that’ll help, I will.”

Hajime nods stiffly, still tense, and then he goes on in a low voice. “How do you...do it, Izuru?”

“It’s all instinctual. There’s really no strategy to it—just don’t think.” Simple enough. He understood that—in fact, it was familiar. Stable. “Thoughts and feelings are weights in a state like this—unreliable and clinging things best cast off. You’re better off that way. It’s easier that way.”

Hajime’s frown deepens, gaze downturned and troubled. “That’s...rather cold, don’t you think?”

“Being too soft and caring too much compromise your capabilities.” He’s only being matter-of-fact, and there really is no point in arguing or downplaying penance. And without really intending it, his tone sharpens and the cold gaze he fixes Hajime with is harsh, taking in how those hazel eyes immediately widen, “It’s a burden, and you become a burden as well. That’s all there is to it, Hajime.”

Hajime looks stricken, and he continues, his eyes narrowed. “You need to understand that, at least. Do you understand, Hajime?”

His head drops immediately, but he nods mutely, almost jerkily. Despite that, it does feel...off. Almost wrong. But it’d be easier and better off to cast such feelings aside, pushing them far back enough that the niggling was ignorable.

* * *

Hajime does manage to reap, with shaking hands on his scythe for that next assignment, but he drops it as soon as Izuru shuts the container. His hands keep shaking for a while after, and Hajime can only look to him before he trembles entirely. Izuru nods in approval, but strangely enough, that feeling of wrong remains the more he takes in Hajime’s quivering form. A fully matured grim reaper now, but it felt like he was faltering even more, even without the physical flickering.

“L-Let’s just go...” Hajime was stammering, and Izuru was the one who followed him this time. The entire time, Hajime’s arms were wrapped around himself, tight and perhaps in an attempt to be secure. Izuru does touch his shoulder, though he doesn’t initially notice. When he does, however, he does give the other this shaky uncertain smile and for whatever reason, Izuru feels his hollow insides stir. Unpleasantly. _Peculiarly_.

But it doesn’t really matter—it’s miniscule now in light of Hajime maturing. Even if he retains that shaky, insecure manner, he’s made progress. He’s making progress. At some point—whatever point, surely, Hajime will fall into the role easily enough like the rest, even if the transition may not be a smooth one.

It’ll most likely...be rough on him with how he’s noticed Hajime is. Soft, a little too emotional, but as long as Hajime can manage, does it really matter? It may be more difficult, yes, but he doesn’t mind too much. Their penance was endless, so as long as they pulled through for the most part, there was little to be concerned over. Little.

* * *

Hajime _does_ manage as time went by, though there are still breaks every now and then where Izuru has to cover. He doesn’t mind. As long as the assignments are completed, it doesn’t matter. Orders are followed, going back and forth, assignments are reaped and returned to their proper places, and even with those breaks, the cycle goes on.

There is a potentially concerning change that occurs when Hajime starts taking assignments to fulfill on his own, Izuru’s presence not required. But, he just does the same as he had before Hajime. He does still check up on Hajime all the same when their assignments don’t intersect.

Hajime, he notes, does seem more at ease in his role in some ways... But in others, he seemed more on edge. He never really lost that softness of his, and it was especially clear in some assignments, ones that were weak yet still smiling at their family members. Hajime looked at them worriedly at times, but that look would fade the longer Izuru watched, and then he’d force a laugh himself and insist he could handle himself. He insisted that a lot. Izuru decided against questioning that either way.

Hajime would always look even more troubled when he asked and really, he’s found plain silence earns preferable responses, even if they’re not entirely pleasant. Hajime’s still uncertain and on edge if he’s quiet, but at least he doesn’t give that pained look like when he _does_ ask, almost as though vocalized doubts hurt. Perhaps they did, and Izuru...decidedly didn’t like or want Hajime hurting if it could be avoided. So silence was the preferable option.

Silence is something that Hajime may have been able to settle himself easier in. Though there were those times with Izuru that being quiet for _too_ long in a certain kind of atmosphere resulted in Hajime ending up anxious either way. In the very least, Hajime remained easy to read so Izuru deducted when to adjust accordingly. In some ways, Hajime’s simplicity was easy to appreciate as well as Hajime himself being so open.

But perhaps that was why he could be _affected_ by Hajime’s anxiety, apparent and at times aggravating, and why he remained close in spite of it, making sure Hajime continued to manage and nothing really changed.

...Perhaps that was why he had ended up so short-sighted with these continual attempts at managing what he now considered ‘normalcy’, even though it was so very precarious.

* * *

For this assignment, Izuru had already figured a few things would likely have an effect: the age, the duration, that appearance being far too blatant in terms of the condition—

Hajime, most likely, would have been troubled already by all of these things either way, and it would have been difficult regardless. Izuru had figured, but he hadn’t been overly concerned. It was just—

_“How unlucky—and so **despairing** —”_

Another thing to work through. To manage in spite of. Which, for Hajime, would have been fully within the realm of possibility and Izuru _had_ expected that much in the very least, _except_. There was one factor that had been so unlikely he overlooked it, one that tipped that precarious balance from the beginning.

When that assignment glanced their way, instead of seeing right through them, Komaeda Nagito saw them both, and met their gazes evenly.

_“—may prove to result in a break in that loop—”_

“May I ask a question?” Komaeda Nagito, leaning out the window with those bright eyes and a smile on those lit up pale, decaying features— ** _at_ them**—“Are you two angels?”

Izuru might have tensed had he been anyone else—Hajime certainly had. And although Izuru could respond to him— _an **assignment** , a human that wasn’t in the immediate throes of death and still somehow_ speaking _to them_ —he had known. With Hajime’s softness, the way he himself _spoke t_ o that human for the first time and how he looked at him now, knowing that Komaeda Nagito would notice his gaze and having Komaeda Nagito still smile at him, there was simply no way Hajime would begin to detach himself from this assignment. Not for this one—now possibly not ever, with the sensation of being seen by someone still alive now something both of them would keep with themselves for the rest of existence.

It wasn’t a situation where the novelty would eventually wear off and become nothing new nor special, especially not for Hajime. Izuru had known that much, but Hajime continued to insist he’d be the one to see this situation all the way through. It could have just been that stubbornness, or it could have been his softness, stuck on that smile Komaeda Nagito gave them.

 _“—really something that you_ **feel** _for someone—”_

...A part of him had wondered, in the midst of it, how he himself would have been affected by Komaeda Nagito— _someone waiting to die, **smiling at death** , with a heart that kept beating in spite of everything_—perhaps, he would have been shaken to his core at first but would have still managed to settle himself later. Perhaps it wouldn’t have really amounted to anything either way, and even if Komaeda Nagito cheerfully laughed at him, kept speaking to him, he would have remained unmoved.

He could predict it either way he wished—but neither of those really mattered seeing as Hajime...was different. Hajime would, without a doubt, be shaken by that smile, moved by any words or laughter, regardless of the vapid cheer. Komaeda Nagito would continue to wane as his life ticked away, but the longer he smiled and conversed with Hajime, Hajime would have been pulled down deeper, even if Izuru’s grip was stronger. Regardless of if everything still occurred as it was supposed to, the effect on Hajime would have been deeply seated, sincere, and thoroughly unsettling.

There was no way to shield him from such a thing like that—not for Hajime, still too soft, cared too much, and showed little signs of losing that vulnerability of his.

_“—who’s most likely **hopeless**!”_

And, of course...

“I’m sorry, Izuru.”

That’s exactly what happened to a devastating degree.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

* * *

As it is, it’s only an unending routine, an ongoing maze, a loop where escape is a dive into emptiness that does nothing, only allows for pain and regret to seep back through. But both are inescapable regardless, even if they appear for brief, fleeting moments, they work together as a harsh reminder that this is 'punishment’.

“It’s unfair, isn’t it, Izuru? Existing like this—being forced to go on and being punished constantly—and for what? Being nothing more than a coward who gave up? Isn’t this too cruel?”

It is. It’s easy to see it that way, but if seen another... He wondered if such was possible. If another perception of this existence and punishment truly existed, what would it be? Perhaps it be something more optimistic, like it was all some sort of ‘second chance’. That’d be the simplest alternative—one he’s sure that even Hajime would figure out for himself. But it’d be difficult to accept. But he could still admit it.

“If that is how you perceive it... Perhaps there is another reason for all this.”

“...You don’t _know_?”

It was difficult, but he could still apologize.

“I’m sorry, Hajime.”

Hajime could steel himself to completing that assignment, but with Komaeda Nagito gone, he ended up disappearing in another sense. He didn’t return with Izuru and Izuru didn’t know when or if he’d be back. Perhaps eventually, but also perhaps never. Left alone in an empty room, he could only wonder which of the two options it would be. If he never saw Hajime again though, he’d be left wondering for the rest of existence.

If he loses Hajime after all, then things will go back to as they were, he supposed. But it’s not as though he himself is the same as before. Many things aren’t the same as before now. All the same, things still have to _go_ as they did before, back into that routine in that loop. Even _as_ Hajime’s slipped away but Izuru remains still, not making that same mistake twice.

Perhaps Hajime will return, realizing the inevitability because outside of this routine, this maze, is just that pain and regret, seeping back through—a harsh, never-ending, looming reminder that this is their punishment. So the only real option is to move through this routine accordingly, allowing the present to progress and to distract from that pain and regret.

Without progress, there really isn’t a present. Just...nothing. Nothing but that pain and regret that are just reminders. Just reminders of a past that remains unchanged regardless of any pipe dreams and wishes. Nothing else.

Without progress, there’s nothing else. Except that. Present progress is only everything because it’s the only thing that changes as time goes on. Even if nothing is done, time moves on. Time manages.

He’s staring at the corner for the longest time before walking towards it, glancing downwards at nothing in particular. Even when Hajime had been here, still and silent, there was still progress and time went on. Even now, that doesn’t change when Izuru’s the one kneeling down before he sits, wrapping his arms around his knees with a blank stare.

He’d accepted this once he’d known—because it was all inevitable, unchangeable. It was really the only practical way to go through this punishment—more practical than disappearing within that pain and regret, far more so than just wandering that endless maze aimlessly like the lost souls that beings like them truly were.

Without that routine, all they have is that loss and hurting. That regret for their deaths that left them like this—lost, hurt, but still clinging together and not wanting to simply disappear. The most effective method of coping was to just accept and allow getting swept away all over again. He’d known, and he isn’t one who makes the same mistakes twice.

It’ll be boring, especially so now, but it remains the best option. He’s not like Hajime—in fact, he’ll have to cast off Hajime in order for now to move on. Steel himself as he falls back into that loop and detaching himself from it all as before. It’ll be better off that way. It’ll be easier.

Izuru buried his face and took a deep breath, allowing that tremor to accompany it.


End file.
